GOING  SOME 


REX  BEACH 


A  ROMANCE   OF 
STRENUOUS    AFFECTION 


BY 


REX    BEACH 


SUGGESTED     BY    THE    PLAY    BY 
-I-;   EEACH    AND    PAUL    ARMSTRONG 

ILLUSTRATED     BY 
MARK     FENDERSON 


A.    L.    BURT    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK 


Published  by  arrangement  with   Harpei  &  Brothers. 


r  

BOOKS  BY 
REX    BEACH 

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HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS,  N.  Y. 


Copyright,  1910,  by  HARPBR  &  BROTHKRS 


All  rig-Sit*  rts<rv*tt 


Published  May,  19 10 
Printed  in  the  United  Statts  of  America 


CHAPTER  I 

FOUR  cowboys  inclined  their  bodies 
over  the  barbed -wire  fence  which 
marked  the  dividing-line  between  the 
Centipede  Ranch  and  their  own,  staring 
mournfully  into  a  summer  night  such 
as  only  the  far  southwestern  country 
knows.  Big  yellow  stars  hung  thick  and 
low — so  low  that  it  seemed  they  might 
almost  be  plucked  by  an  upstretched 
hand — and  a  silent  air  blew  across  thou 
sands  of  open  miles  of  land  lying  crisp 
and  fragrant  under  the  velvet  dark. 

And  as  the  four  inclined  their  bodies, 
they  inclined  also  their  ears,  after  the 
strained  manner  of  listeners  who  feel 
anguish  at  what  they  hear.  A  voice, 


M13733 


shrill  and  human,  pierced  the  night  like 
a  needle,  then,  with  a  wail  of  a  tortured 
soul,  died  away-  amid  discordant  rasp 
ings:  the'  Voice  of  a  phonograph.  It  was 
thoir  own.-  or  had  been  until  one  over 
confident  day-,  when  the  Flying  Heart 
Ranch  had  risked  it  as  a  wager  in  a 
foot-race  with  the  neighboring  Centi 
pede,  and  their  own  man  had  been  too 
slow.  As  it  had  been  their  pride,  it  re 
mained  their  disgrace.  Dearly  had  they 
loved,  and  dearly  lost  it.  It  meant 
something  that  looked  like  honor,  and 
though  there  were  ten  thousand  thou 
sand  phonographs,  in  all  the  world  there 
was  not  one  that  could  take  its  place. 

The  sound  ceased,  there  was  an  ap 
proving  distant  murmur  of  men's  voices, 
and  then  the  song  began: 

"  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem, 
Lift  up  your  voice  and  sing — " 

Higher  and  higher  the  voice  mounted 
until  it  reached  again  its  first  thin,  ear- 
splitting  pitch. 

"Still  Bill"  Stover  stirred  uneasily  in 
the  darkness. 

9 


"Why  'n  'ell  don't  they  keep  her  wound 
up?"  he  complained.  "Gallagher's  got 
the  soul  of  a  wart-hog.  It's  criminal 
the  way  he  massacrees  that  hymn." 

From  a  rod  farther  down  the  wire 
fence  Willie  answered  him,  in  a  boy's 
falsetto : 

"I  wonder  if  he  does  it  to  spite  me?" 

"He  don't  know  you're  here,"  said 
Stover. 

The  other  came  out  of  the  gloom,  a  lit 
tle  stoop-shouldered  man  with  spectacles. 

"I  ain't  noways  sure,"  he  piped, 
peering  up  at  his  lanky  foreman.  "Why 
do  you  reckon  he  allus  lets  Mrs.  Melby 
peter  out  on  my  favorite  record?  He 
done  the  same  thing  last  night.  It  looks 
like  an  insult." 

"It's  nothing  but  ignorance,"  Stover 
replied.  "He  don't  want  no  trouble 
with  you.  None  of  'em  do." 

"I'd  like  to  know  for  certain."  The 
small  man  seemed  torn  by  doubt.  "If 
I  only  knew  he  done  it  a-purpose,  I'd  git 
him.  I  bet  I  could  do  it  from  here." 

Stover's  voice  was  gruff  as  he  com 
manded  : 


"Forget  it!  Ain't  it  bad  enough  for 
us  fellers  to  hang  around  like  this  every 
night  without  advertising  our  idiocy  by 
a  gun-play?" 

"They  ain't  got  no  right  to  that 
phonograph,"  Willie  averred,  darkly. 

"Oh  yes,  they  have;  they  won  it 
fair  and  square." 

"Fair  and  square!  Do  you  mean  to 
say  Humpy  Joe  run  that  foot-race  on 
the  square?" 

"I  never  said  nothin'  like  that  what 
ever.  I  mean  we  bet  it,  and  we  lost  it. 
Listen!  There  goes  Carara's  piece!" 

Out  past  the  corral  floated  the  an 
nouncement  in  a  man's  metallic  syllables : 

"The  Baggage  Coach  Ahead,  as  sung 
by  Helena  Mora  for  the  Echo  Phono 
graph,  of  New  York  and  Pa-a-aris!" 

From  the  dusk  to  the  right  of  the  two 
listeners  now  issued  soft  Spanish  phrases. 

"Madre  de  Dios!  'The  Baggage  Car 
in  Front!'  T'adora  Mora!  God  bless 
'er!" 

During  the  rendition  of  this  affecting 
ballad  the  two  cow-men  remained  draped 
uncomfortably  over  the  barbed- wire  bar- 
4 


rier,  lost  in  rapturous  enjoyment.  When 
the  last  note  had  died  away,  Stover 
roused  himself  reluctantly. 

"It's  time  we  was  turnin'  in."  He 
called  softly,  "Hey,  Mex!" 

"SI,  SenorT 

"Come  on,  you  and  Cloudy.  Vamos! 
It's  ten  o'clock." 

He  turned  his  back  on  the  Centipede 
Ranch  that  housed  the  treasure,  and  in 
company  with  Willie,  made  his  way  to 
the  ponies.  Two  other  figures  joined 
them,  one  humming  in  a  musical  baritone 
the  strains  of  the  song  just  ended. 

"Cut  that  out,  Mex!  They'll  hear 
us,"  Stover  cautioned. 

"Caramba!  This  t'ing  is  brek  my 
'eart,"  said  the  Mexican,  sadly.  "It 
seem  like  the  Sefiorita  Mora  is  sing  that 
song  to  me.  Mebbe  she  knows  I'm  set 
out  'ere  on  cactus  an'  listen  to  her.  Ah, 
I  love  that  Sefiorita  ver'  much." 

The  little  man  with  the  glasses  began 
to  swear  in  his  high  falsetto.  His  ear 
had  caught  the  phonograph  operator  in 
another  musical  mistake. 

"That  horn-toad  let  Mrs.  Melby  die 
5 


again  to-night,"  said  he.  "It's  sure 
comin'  to  a  runnacaboo  between  him 
and  me.  If  somebody  don't  kill  him 
pretty  soon,  he'll  wear  out  that  machine 
before  we  git  it  back." 

"Humph!  It  don't  look  like  we'd 
ever  get  it  back,"  said  Stover. 

One  of  the  four  sighed  audibly,  then 
vaulting  into  his  saddle,  went  loping 
away  without  waiting  for  his  companions. 

1 '  Cloudy 's  sore  because  they  didn't 
play  Navajo,"  said  Willie.  "Well,  I 
don't  blame  'em  none  for  omittin'  that 
war-dance.  It  ain't  got  the  class  of 
them  other  pieces.  While  it's  devised 
to  suit  the  intellect  of  an  Injun,  perhaps, 
it  ain't  in  the  runnin'  with  The  Holy 
City,  which  tune  is  the  sweetest  and 
sacredest  ever  sung  " 

Carara  paused  with  a  hand  upon  the 
neck  of  his  cay  use. 

1 '  Eet  is  not  so  fine  as  The  Baggage  Car 
in  Front/'  he  declared. 

"It's  got  it  beat  a  mile!"  Willie 
flashed  back,  harshly. 

"Here  you!"  exclaimed  Stover,  "no 
arguments.  We  all  have  our  favorites, 
6 


and  it  ain't  up  to  no  individual  to  force 
his  likes  and  dislikes  down  no  other 
feller's  throat."  The  two  men  he  ad 
dressed  mounted  their  broncos  stiffly 

"I  repeat,"  said  Willie:  "The  Holy 
City,  as  sung  by  Mrs.  Melby,  is  the  swell- 
est  tune  that  ever  hit  these  parts." 

Carara  muttered  something  in  Spanish 
which  the  others  could  not  understand. 

"They're  all  fine  pieces,"  Stover  ob 
served,  placatingly,  when  fairly  out  of 
hearing  of  the  ranch-houses.  "You 
boys  have  each  got  your  preference. 
Cloudy,  bein'  an  Injun,  has  got  his, 
and  I  rise  to  state  that  I  like  that 
monologue,  Silas  on  Fifth  Avenoo, 
better  than  all  of  'em,  which  ain't 
nothin'  ag'inst  my  judgment  nor  yours. 
When  Silas  says,  'The  girl  opened  her 
valise,  took  out  her  purse,  closed  her 
valise,  opened  her  purse,  took  out  a 
dime,  closed  her  purse,  opened  her 
valise,  put  in  her  purse,  closed  her 
valise,  give  the  dime  to  the  conductor, 
got  a  nickel  in  change,  then  opened  her 
valise,  took  out  her  purse,  closed  her 
valise — '"  Stover  began  to  rock  in  his 
7 


saddle,  then  burst  into  a  loud  guffaw, 
followed  by  his  companions.  "Gosh! 
That's  awful  funny!" 

"Si!  si!"  acknowledged  Carara,  his 
white  teeth  showing  through  the  gloom. 

"An'  it's  just  like  a  fool  woman," 
tittered  Willie.  "That's  sure  one  ridic'- 
lous  line  of  talk." 

"Still  Bill"  wiped  his  eyes  with  the 
back  of  a  bony  hand.  "I  know  that 
hull  monologue  by  heart,  but  I  can't 
never  get  past  that  spot  to  save  my 
soul.  PJght  there  I  bog  down,  com 
plete."  Again  he  burst  into  wild  laugh 
ter,  followed  by  his  companions.  "I 
don't  see  how  folks  can  be  so  dam' 
funny!"  he  gasped. 

"It's  natural  to  'em,  like  warts,"  said 
Willie;  "they're  born  with  it,  the  same 
as  I  was  born  to  shoot  straight  with 
either  hand,  and  the  same  as  the  Mex 
was  born  to  throw  a  rope.  He  don't 
know  how  he  does  it,  and  neither  do  I. 
Some  folks  can  say  funny  things,  some 
can  sing,  like  Missus  Melby;  some  can 
run  foot-races,  like  that  Centipede 
cook—" 

8 


Carara  breathed  an  eloquent  Mexican 
oath. 

4 'Do  you  reckon  he  fixed  that  race 
with  Humpy  Joe?"  inquired  Stover. 

4 'Name's  Skinner,"  Willie  observed. 
"It  sure  sounds  bad." 

"I'm  sorry  Humpy  left  us  so  sud 
den,"  said  Still  Bill.  "We'd  ought  to 
have  questioned  him.  If  we  only  had 
proof  that  the  race  was  crooked— 

"You  can  so  gamble  it  was  crooked," 
the  little  man  averred.  "Them  Centi 
pede  fellers  never  done  nothin'  on  the 
square.  They  got  Humpy  Joe,  and 
fixed  it  for  him  to  lose  so  they  could 
get  that  talkin'-machine.  That's  why 
he  pulled  out." 

"I'd  hate  to  think  it,"  said  the 
foreman,  gloomily ;  then  after  a  moment, 
during  which  the  only  sound  was  that 
of  the  muffled  hoof-beats:  "Well,  what 
we  goin'  to  do  about  it?" 

"Humph!  I've  laid  awake  nights 
figurin'  that  out.  I  reckon  we'll  just 
have  to  git  another  foot-racer  and  beat 
Skinner.  He  ain't  the  fastest  in  the 
world." 


"That  takes  coin.     We're  broke." 

"Mebbe  Mr.  Chapin  would  lend  a 
helpin'  hand." 

"No  chance!"  said  Stover,  grimly. 
"He's  sore  on  foot-racin'.  Says  it  dis 
turbs  us  and  upsets  our  equalubrium." 

Carara  fetched  a  deep  sigh. 

"It's  ver'  bad  t'ing,  Senor.  I  don* 
feel  no  worse  w'en  my  gran'mother  die." 

The  three  men  loped  onward  through 
the  darkness,  weighted  heavily  with  dis 
appointment. 

Affairs  at  the  Flying  Heart  Ranch 
were  not  all  to  Jack  Chapin's  liking. 
Ever  since  that  memorable  foot-race, 
more  than  a  month  before,  a  gloom  had 
brooded  over  the  place  which  even  the 
presence  of  two  Smith  College  girls,  not 
to  mention  that  of  Mr.  Fresno,  was  un 
able  to  dissipate.  The  cowboys  moped 
about  like  melancholy  shades,  and  neg 
lected  their  work  to  discuss  the  disgrace 
that  had  fallen  upon  them.  It  was  a 
task  to  get  any  of  them  out  in  the 
morning,  several  had  quit,  the  rest  were 
quarrelling  among  themselves,  and  the 
10 


bunk-house  had  already  been  the  scene 
of  more  than  one  encounter,  altogether 
too  sanguinary  to  have  originated  from 
such  a  trivial  cause  as  a  foot-race.  It 
was  not  exactly  an  auspicious  atmosphere 
in  which  to  entertain  a  houseful  of 
college  boys  and  girls,  all  unversed  in 
the  ways  of  the  West. 

The  master  of  the  ranch  sought  his 
sister  Jean,  to  tell  her  frankly  what  was 
on  his  mind. 

"See  here,  Sis,"  he  began,  "I  don't 
want  to  cast  a  cloud  over  your  little  house- 
party,  but  I  think  you'd  better  keep 
your  friends  away  from  my  men." 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter?"  she 
demanded. 

"Things  are  at  a  pretty  high  tension 
just  now,  and  the  boys  have  had  two 
or  three  rows  among  themselves.  Yes 
terday  Fresno  tried  to  'kid'  Willie 
about  The  Holy  City;  said  it  was  written 
as  a  coon  song,  and  wasn't  sung  in  good 
society.  If  he  hadn't  been  a  guest, 
I  guess  Willie  would  have  murdered 
him." 

"Oh,  Jack!  You  won't  let  Willie 
2  n 


murder  anybody,  not  even  Berkeley, 
while  the  people  are  here,  will  you?" 
coaxed  Miss  Chapin,  anxiously. 

"What  made  you  invite  Berkeley 
Fresno,  anyhow?''  was  the  rejoinder. 
"This  is  no  gilded  novelty  to  him. 
He  is  a  Western  man." 

Miss  Chapin  numbered  her  reasons 
sagely.  "In  the  first  place  —  Helen. 
Then  there  had  to  be  enough  men  to  go 
around.  Last  and  best,  he  is  the  most 
adorable  man  I  ever  saw  at  a  house- 
party.  He's  an  angel  at  breakfast,  sings 
perfectly  beautifully — you  know  he  was 
on  the  Stanford  Glee  Club  — " 

"Humph!"  Jack  was  unimpressed. 
"If  you  roped  him  for  Helen  Blake  to 
brand,  why  have  you  sent  for  Wally 
Speed?" 

"Well,  you  see,  Berkeley  and  Helen 
didn't  quite  hit  it  off,  and  Mr.  Speed 
is — a  friend  of  Culver's."  Miss  Chapin 
blushed  prettily. 

"Oh,  I  see!  I  thought  myself  that 
this  affair  had  something  to  do  with  you 
and  Culver  Covington,  but  I  didn't  know 
it  had  lapsed  into  a  sort  of  matrimonial 

12 


round-up.     Suppose  Miss  Blake  shouldn't 
care  for  Speed  after  he  gets  here  ?" 

"Oh,  but  she  will!  That's  where 
Berkeley  Fresno  comes  in.  When  two 
men  begin  to  fight  for  her,  she'll  have 
to  begin  to  form  a  preference,  and  I'm 
sure  it  will  be  for  Wally  Speed.  Don't 
you  see?" 

The  brother  looked  at  his  sister  shrewd 
ly.  "It  seems  to  me  you  learned  a  lot 
at  Smith." 

Jean  tossed  her  head.  "How  absurd! 
That  sort  of  knowledge  is  perfectly 
natural  for  a  girl  to  have."  Then  she 
teased:  "But  you  admit  that  my  selec 
tion  of  a  chaperon  was  excellent,  don't 
you,  Jack?" 

"Mrs.  Keap  and  I  are  the  best  of 
friends,"  Jack  averred,  with  supreme  dig 
nity.  "I'm  not  in  the  market,  and  a  man 
doesn't  marry  a  widow,  anyhow.  It's 
too  old  and  experienced  a  beginning." 

"Nonsense!  Roberta  Keap  is  only 
twenty-three.  Why,  she  hardly  knew 
her  husband,  even !  It  was  one  of  those 
sudden,  impulsive  affairs  that  would 
overwhelm  any  girl  who  hadn't  seen  a 
13 


man  for  four  years.  And  then  he  en 
listed  in  the  Spanish  War,  and  was 
killed." 

" Considerate  chap!" 

"Roberta,  you  know,  is  my  best  friend, 
after  Helen.     Do  be  nice  to  her,  Jack." 
Miss  Chapin  sighed.     "It  is  too  bad  the 
others  couldn't  come." 

"Yes,  a  small  house-party  has  its  dis 
advantages.  By-the-way,  what's  that 
gold  thing  on  your  frock?" 

"It's  a  medal.     Culver  sent  it  to  me." 

"Another?" 

"Yes,  he  won  the  intercollegiate 
championship  again."  Miss  Chapin 
proudly  extended  the  emblem  on  its 
ribbon. 

"I  wish  to  goodness  Covington  had 
been  here  to  take  Humpy  Joe's  place," 
said  the  young  cattle-man  as  he  turned 
it  over.  "The  boys  are  just  broken 
hearted  over  losing  that  phonograph." 

"I'll  get  him  to  run  and  win  it  back," 
Jean  offered,  easily. 

Her  brother  kughed.     "Take  my  ad 
vice,  Sis,  and  don't  let  Culver  mix  up 
in  this  game!    The  stakes  are  too  high. 
14 


I  think  that  Centipede  cook  is  a  pro 
fessional  runner,  myself,  and  if  our  boys 
were  beaten  again — well,  you  and  mother 
and  I  would  have  to  move  out  of  New 
Mexico,  that's  all.  No,  we'd  better  let 
the  memory  of  that  defeat  die  out  as 
quickly  as  possible.  You  warn  Fresno 
not  to  joke  about  it  any  more,  and  I'll 
take  Mrs.  Keap  off  your  hands.  She 
may  be  a  widow,  she  may  even  be 
the  chaperon,  but  I'll  do  it;  I  will  do 
it,"  promised  Jack — "for  my  sister's 
sake." 


CHAPTER  II 

HELEN  BLAKE  was  undeniably 
bored.  The  sultry  afternoon  was 
very  long — longer  even  than  Berkeley 
Fresno's  autobiography,  and  quite  as 
dry.  It  was  too  hot  and  dusty  to  ride, 
so  she  took  refuge  in  the  latest  "best 
seller,"  and  sought  out  a  hammock  on 
the  vine  -  shaded  gallery,  where  Jean 
Chapin  was  writing  letters,  while  the 
disconsolate  Fresno,  banished,  wandered 
at  large,  vaguely  injured  at  her  lack  of 
appreciation. 

Absent  -  mindedly,  the  girls  dipped 
into  the  box  of  bonbons  between  them. 
Jean  finished  her  correspondence  and 
essayed  conversation,  but  her  com 
panion's  blond  head  was  bowed  over 
16 


the  book  in  her  lap,  and  the  effort  met 
with  no  response.  Lulled  by  the  som 
niferous  droning  of  insects  and  lazy 
echoes  from  afar,  Miss  Chapin  was  on 
the  verge  of  slumber,  when  she  saw  her 
guest  rapidly  turn  the  last  pages  of  her 
novel,  then,  with  a  chocolate  between  her 
teeth,  read  wide-eyed  to  the  finish.  Miss 
Blake  closed  the  book  reluctantly,  un 
curled  slowly,  then  stared  out  through 
the  dancing  heat-waves,  her  blue  eyes 
shadowed  with  romance. 

"Did  she  marry  him?"  queried  Jean. 

"No,  no!"  Helen  Blake  sighed,  bliss 
fully.  "It  was  infinitely  finer.  She 
killed  herself." 

"I  like  to  see  them  get  married." 

"Naturally.  You  are  at  that  stage. 
But  I  think  suicide  is  more  glorious, 
in  many  cases." 

Miss  Chapin  yawned  openly.  "Speak 
ing  of  suicides,  isn't  this  ranch  the 
deadest  place?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  so  at  all."     Miss 
Blake  picked  her  way  fastidiously  through 
the  bonbons,  nibbling  tentatively  at  sev 
eral  before  making  her  choice. 
17 


"Oh  yes,  you  do,  and  you  needn't  be 
polite  just  because  you're  a  guest." 

"Well,  then,  to  be  as  truthful  as  a 
boarder,  it  is  a  little  dull.  Not  for  our 
chaperon,  though.  The  time  doesn't 
seem  to  drag  on  her  hands.  Jack  cer 
tainly  is  making  it  pleasant  for  her." 

"If  you  call  taking  her  out  to  watch 
a  lot  of  bellowing  calves  get  branded, 
entertainment,"  Miss  Chapin  sighed. 

"I  wonder  what  makes  widows  so 
fascinating?"  observed  the  youthful 
Miss  Blake. 

"I  hope  I  never  find  out."  Jean 
clutched  nervously  at  the  gold  medal  on 
her  dress.  "Wouldn't  that  be  dreadful!" 

"My  dear,  Culver  seems  perfectly 
healthy.  Why  worry?" 

"I — I  wish  he  were  here." 

Miss  Blake  leaned  forward  and  read  the 
inscription  on  her  companion's  medal. 
"Oh,  isn't  it  heavy!"  feeling  it  reverently. 

"Pure  gold,  like  himself!  You  should 
have  seen  him  when  he  won  it.  Why, 
at  the  finish  of  that  race  all  the  men 
but  Culver  were  making  the  most  horri 
ble  faces.  They  were  simply  dead." 
18 


Miss  Blake's  hands  were  clasped  in 
her  lap.  "They  all  make  faces,"  said 
she.  "Have  you  told  Roberta  about 
your  engagement?" 

"No,  she  doesn't  dream  of  it,  and  I 
don't  want  her  to  know.  I'm  so  afraid 
she'll  think,  now  that  mother  has  gone, 
that  I  asked  her  here  just  as  a  chaper 
on.  Perhaps  I'll  tell  her  when  Culver 


comes." 


"I  adore  athletes.  I  wouldn't  give 
a  cent  for  a  man  who  wasn't  athletic." 

"Does  Mr.  Speed  go  in  for  that  sort 
of  thing?" 

"Rather!  The  day  we  met  at  the 
Yale  games  he  had  medals  all  over 
him,  and  that  night  at  the  dance  he 
used  the  most  wonderful  athletic  lan 
guage  —  we  could  scarcely  understand 
him.  Mr.  Covington  must  have  told 
you  all  about  him;  they  are  chums, 
you  know." 

Miss  Chapin  furrowed  her  brows  medi 
tatively. 

"I  have  heard  Culver  speak  of  him, 
but  never  as  an  athlete.  Have  you 
and  Mr.  Speed  settled  things  between 
19 


you,  Helen  ?     I  mean,  has  he — said  any 
thing?" 

Miss  Blake  flushed. 

"Not  exactly."  She  adjusted  a  cush 
ion  to  cover  her  confusion,  then  leaned 
back  complacently.  ''But  he  has  stut 
tered  dangerously  several  times." 

A  musical  tinkle  of  silver  spurs 
sounded  in  the  distance,  and  around 
the  corner  of  the  cook-house  opposite 
came  Carara,  the  Mexican,  his  wide, 
spangled  sombrero  tipped  rakishly  over 
one  ear,  a  corn-husk  cigarette  drooping 
from  his  lips.  Evidently  his  presence 
was  inspired  by  some  special  motive, 
for  he  glanced  sharply  about,  and  fail 
ing  to  detect  the  two  girls  behind  the 
distant  screen  of  vines,  removed  his 
cigarette  and  whistled  thrice,  like  a 
quail,  then,  leaning  against  the  adobe 
wrall,  curled  his  black  silken  mustaches  to 
needle-points. 

"It's  that  romantic  Spaniard!"  whis 
pered  Helen.  "What  does  he  want?" 

"It's  his  afternoon  call  on  Mariedetta, 
the  maid,"  said  Jean.    "They  meet  there 
twice  a  day,  morning  and  afternoon." 
20 


"A  lovers'  tryst!"  breathed  Miss 
Blake,  eagerly.  "Isn't  he  graceful  and 
picturesque!  Can  we  watch  them?" 

'"Sh-h!    There  she  comes!" 

From  the  opposite  direction  appeared 
a  slim,  swarthy  Mexican  girl,  an  Indian 
water-jug  balanced  upon  her  shoulders. 
She  was  clad  in  the  straight-hanging 
native  garment,  belted  in  with  a  sash; 
her  feet  were  in  sandals,  and  she  moved 
as  silently  as  a  shadow. 

During  the  four  days  since  Miss 
Blake's  arrival  at  the  Flying  Heart 
Ranch  she  had  seen  Mariedetta  flitting 
noiselessly  here  and  there,  but  had  never 
heard  her  speak.  The  pretty,  expres 
sionless  face  beneath  its  straight  black 
hair  had  ever  retained  its  wooden 
stolidity,  the  velvety  eyes  had  not 
laughed  nor  frowned  nor  sparkled. 
She  seemed  to  be  merely  a  part  of  this 
far  southwestern  picture;  a  bit  of 
inanimate  yet  breathing  local  color. 
Now,  however,  the  girl  dropped  her 
jug,  and  with  a  low  cry  glided  to 
her  lover,  who  tossed  aside  his 
cigarette  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 


21 


From  this  distance  their  words  were  in 
distinguishable. 

"How  perfectly  romantic,"   said  the 
Eastern  girl,   breathlessly.     "I   had  no 
idea   Mariedetta   could  love  anybody." 
"She  is  a  volcano,"  Jean  answered. 
"Why,  it's  like  a  play!" 
"And  it  goes  on  all  the  time." 
"How    gentle    and    sweet    he    is!     I 
think   he   is   charming.     He   is   not   at 
all  like  the  other  cowboys,  is  he?" 

While  the  two  witnesses  of  the  scene 
were  eagerly  discussing  it,  Joy,  the 
Chinese  cook,  emerged  from  the  kitchen 
bearing  a  bucket  of  water,  his  presence 
hidden  from  the  lovers  by  the  corner 
of  the  building.  Carara  languidly  re 
leased  his  inamorata  from  his  embrace 
and  lounged  out  of  sight  around  the 
building,  pausing  at  the  farther  corner 
to  waft  her  a  graceful  kiss  from  the  ends 
of  his  fingers,  as  with  a  farewell  flash  of 
his  white  teeth  he  disappeared.  Marie 
detta  recovered  her  water-jug  and  glided 
onward  into  the  court  in  front  of  the 
cook-house,  her  face  masklike,  her  move 
ments  deliberate  as  usual. 

22 


Joy,  spying  the  girl,  grinned  at  her. 
She  tossed  her  head  coquettishly  and 
her  step  slackened,  whereupon  the  cook, 
with  a  sly  glance  around,  tapped  her 
gently  on  the  arm,  and  said: 

4 'Nice  1'il  gaily." 

"The  idea!"  indignantly  exclaimed 
Miss  Blake  from  her  hammock. 

But  Manedetta  was  not  offended.  In 
stead  she  smiled  over  her  shoulder  as 
she  had  smiled  at  her  lover  an  instant 
before. 

"Me  like  you  fine.  You  like  pie?"  Joy 
nodded  toward  the  door  to  the  culinary 
department,  as  if  to  make  free  of  his 
hospitality,  at  the  instant  that  Carara, 
who  had  circled  the  building,  came  into 
view  from  the  opposite  side,  a  fresh 
cigarette  between  his  lips.  His  languor 
vanished  at  the  first  glimpse  of  the 
scene,  and  he  strode  toward  the  white- 
clad  Celestial,  who  dove  through  the 
open  door  like  a  prairie  dog  into  its  hole. 
Carara  followed  at  his  heels. 

"It  serves  him  right!"  cried  Miss 
Blake,  rising.  "I  hope  Mr.  Carara— 

A  din  of  falling  pots  and  pans  issued 
23 


from  the  cook-house,  mingled  with  shrill 
cries  and  soft  Spanish  imprecations ;  then, 
with  one  long-drawn  wail,  the  pandemo 
nium  ceased  as  suddenly  as  it  had  com 
menced,  and  Carara  issued  forth,  black 
with  anger. 

"Ha!"  said  he,  scowling  at  Marie- 
detta,  who  had  retreated,  her  hand  upon 
her  bosom.  He  exhaled  a  lungful  of 
cigarette  smoke  through  his  nostrils 
fiercely.  "You  play  wit'  me,  eh?" 

"No!  no!"  Mariedetta  ran  to  him, 
and,  seizing  his  arm,  cooed  amorously 
in  Spanish. 

"Bah!  Vamos!"  Carara  flung  her 
from  him,  and  stalked  away. 

"Well,  of  all  the  outrageous  things!" 
said  Miss  Blake.  "Why,  she  was  act 
ually  flirting  with  that  Chinaman." 

"Mariedetta  flirts  with  every  man  she 
can  find,"  said  Jean,  calmly,  "but  she 
doesn't  mean  any  harm.  She'll  marry 
Carara  some  time — if  he  doesn't  kill  her." 

"Kill  her!"  Miss  Blake's  eyes  were 
round.  "He  wouldn't  do  that!" 

"Indeed,  yes.     He  is  a  Mexican,  and 
he  has  a  terrible  temper." 
24 


Miss  Blake  sank  back  into  the  ham 
mock.  "How  perfectly  dreadful!  And 
yet — it  must  be  heavenly  to  love  a  man 
who  would  kill  you." 

Miss  Chapin  lost  herself  in  meditation 
for  an  instant.  "Culver  is  almost  like 
that  when  he  is  angry.  Hello,  here 
comes  our  foreman!" 

Stover,  a  tall,  gangling  cattle-man  with 
drooping  grizzled  mustache,  came  sham 
bling  up  to  the  steps.  His  weather- 
beaten  chaps  were  much  too  short  for 
his  lengthy  limbs,  the  collar  of  his  faded 
flannel  shirt  lacked  an  inch  of  meeting  at 
the  throat,  its  sleeves  were  shrunken 
until  his  hairy  hands  hung  down  like 
tassels.  He  was  loose  and  spineless,  his 
movements  tempered  with  the  slothful- 
ness  of  the  far  Southwest.  His  appear 
ance  gave  one  the  impression  that  ready- 
made  garments  are  never  long  enough. 
He  dusted  his  boots  with  his  sombrero 
and  cleared  his  throat. 

"  'Evening,  Miss  Jean.  Is  Mr.  Chapin 
around?" 

"I  think  you'll  find  him  down  by  the 
spring-house.  Can  I  do  anything  for  you  ?" 
25 


"Nope!"  Stover  sighed  heavily,  and 
got  his  frame  gradually  into  motion  again. 

"You're  not  looking  well,  Stover.  Are 
you  ill?"  inquired  Miss  Chapin. 

"Not  physical,"  said  the  foreman, 
checking  the  movement  which  had  not 
yet  communicated  itself  the  entire  length 
of  his  frame.  "I  reckon  my  sperret's 
broke,  that's  all." 

"Haven't  you  recovered  from  that 
foot-race?" 

"I  have  not,  and  I  never  will,  so  long 
as  that  ornery  Centipede  outfit  has  got 
it  on  us." 

"Nonsense,  Stover!" 

"What  have  they  done?"  inquired 
Miss  Blake,  curiously.  "I  haven't  heard 
about  any  foot-race." 

"You  tell  her,"  said  the  man,  with  an 
other  sigh,  and  a  hopeless  gesture  that 
told  the  depth  of  his  feelings. 

"Why,  Stover  hired  a  fellow  a  couple 
of  months  ago  as  a  horse-wrangler.  The 
man  said  he  was  hungry,  and  made  a 
good  impression,  so  we  put  him  on." 

Here  Stover  slowly  raised  one  booted 
foot  and  kicked  his  other  calf. 
26 


"The  boys  nicknamed  him  Humpy 
Joe—" 

"Why,  poor  thing!  Was  he  hump 
backed?"  inquired  Helen. 

"No,"  answered  Still  Bill.  "Hump 
back  is  lucky.  We  called  him  Humpy 
Joe  because  when  it  came  to  running  he 
could  sure  get  up  and  hump  himself." 

"Soon  after  Joseph  went  to  work," 
Jean  continued,  "the  Centipede  outfit 
hired  a  new  cook.  You  know  the 
Centipede  Ranch — the  one  you  see  over 
yonder  by  the  foot-hills." 

"It  wasn't  'soon  after,'  it  was  simule- 
taneous,"  said  Stover,  darkly.  "We're 
beginnin'  to  see  plain  at  last."  He  went 
on  as  if  to  air  the  injury  that  was  gnawing 
him.  "One  day  we  hear  that  this  grub- 
slinger  over  yonder  thinks  he  can  run, 
which  same  is  as  welcome  to  us  as  the 
smell  of  flowers  on  a  spring  breeze,  for 
Humpy  Joe  had  amused  us  in  his  idle 
hours  by  running  jack  -  rabbits  to 
earth—" 

"Not  really?"  said  Miss  Blake. 

"Well,  no,  btft'Jrom  what  we  see  we 
judge  he'd  ought  to  limp  a  hundred  yards 
3  27 


in  about  nothing  and  three-fifths  seconds, 
so  we  frame  a  race  between  him  and  the 
Centipede  cook." 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  has  been  a 
feud  for  years  between  the  two  outfits," 
Jean  offered. 

"With  tumulchous  joy  we  bet  our 
wages  and  all  the  loose  gear  we  have, 
and  in  a  burst  of  childish  enthusiasm 
we  put  up — the  talking-machine." 

"A  phonograph?" 

"Yes.  An  Echo  Phonograph,"  said 
Miss  Chapin. 

"Of  New  York  and  Paris,"  added 
Stover. 

"Our  boys  won  it  from  this  very 
Centipede  outfit  at  a  bronco  -  busting 
tournament  in  Cheyenne." 

* '  Wyoming. ' '  Stover  made  the  location 
definite. 

"The  Centipede  crowd  took  their  de 
feat  badly  on  Frontier  Day,  and  swore 
to  get  even." 

"And  was  Humpy  Joe  defeated?" 
asked  Helen. 

"Was  he?"    Still  Bill  shook  his  head 
sadly,  and  sighed  for  a  third  time.     "It 
28 


looked  like  he  was  running  backward, 
miss." 

"But  really  he  was  only  beaten  a  foot. 
It  was  a  wonderful  race.  I  saw  it,"  said 
Jean.  "It  made  me  think  of  the  races 
at  college." 

Miss  Blake  puckered  her  brows  trying 
to  think. 

"Joseph,"  she  said.  "No,  I  don't 
think  I  have  seen  him." 

Stover's  lips  met  grimly.  "I  don't 
reckon  you  have,  miss.  Since  that 
race  he  has  been  hard  to  descry.  He 
passed  from  view  hurriedly,  so  to  speak, 
headed  toward  the  foot-hills,  and  leaping 
from  crag  to  crag  like  the  hardy  sham 
rock  of  the  Swiss  Yelps." 

Miss  Blake  giggled.  "What  made 
him  hurry  so?" 

"Us!"  Stover  gazed  at  her  solemnly. 
"We  ain't  none  of  us  been  the  same 
since  that  foot-race.  You  see,  it  ain't 
the  financial  value  of  that  Echo  Phono 
graph,  nor  the  '  double-cross '  that  hurts : 
it's  the  fact  that  the  mangiest  outfit  in 
the  Territory  has  trimmed  us  out  of  the 
one  thing  that  stands  for  honor  and 
29 


excellence  and  'scientific  attainment,* 
as  the  judge  said  when  we  won  it. 
That  talking-machine  meant  more  to  us 
than  3rou  Eastern  folks  can  understand, 
I  reckon." 

"If  I  were  you  I  would  cheer  up," 
said  Miss  Blake,  kindly,  and  with  some 
importance.  "Miss  Chapin  has  a  college 
friend  coming  this  week,  and  he  can 
win  back  your  trophy." 

Stover  glanced   up   at  Jean   quickly. 

"Is  that  right,  Miss  Chapin?" 

"He  can  if  he  will,"  Jean  asserted. 

"Can  he  run?" 

"He  is  the  intercollegiate  champion," 
declared  that  young  lady,  with  proud 
dignity. 

"And  do  you  reckon  he'd  run  for  us 
and  the  Echo  Phonograph  of  New  York 
and  Paris,  if  we  framed  a  race  ?  It's  an 
honor!" 

But  Miss  Chapin  suddenly  recalled  her 
brother's  caution  of  the  day  before,  and 
hesitated. 

"I— I  don't  think  he  would.  You 
see,  he  is  an  amateur — he  might  be  out 
of  training — " 

so 


"The  idea!"  exclaimed  Miss  Blake, 
indignantly.  "If  Culver  won't  run,  I 
know  who  will!"  She  closed  her  lips 
firmly,  and  turned  to  the  foreman.  "You 
tell  your  friends  that  we'll  see  you  get 
your  trophy  back." 

"Helen,  I—" 

"I  mean  it!"  declared  Miss  Blake,  with 
spirit. 

Stover  bowed  loosely.  "Thank  you, 
miss.  The  very  thought  of  it  will  cheer 
up  the  gang.  Life  'round  here  is 
blacker  'n  a  spade  flush.  I  think  I'll 
tell  Willie."  He  shambled  rapidly  off 
around  the  house. 

"Helen  dear,  I  don't  want  Culver 
to  get  mixed  up  in  this  affair,"  ex 
plained  Miss  Chapin,  as  soon  as  they 
were  alone.  "It's  all  utterly  foolish. 
Jack  doesn't  want  him  to,  either." 

"Very  well.  If  Culver  doesn't  feel 
that  he  can  beat  that  cook  running,  I 
know  who  will  try.  Mr.  Speed  will  do 
anything  I  ask.  It's  a  shame  the  way 
those  men  have  been  treated." 

"But  Mr.  Speed  isn't  a  sprinter." 

"Indeed!"    Miss  Blake  bridled.  "Per- 


haps  Culver  Covington  isn't  the  only 
athlete  in  Yale  College.  I  happen  to 
know  what  I'm  talking  about.  Natural 
ly  the  two  boys  have  never  competed 
against  each  other,  because  they  are 
friends — Mr.  Speed  isn't  the  sort  to  race 
his  room-mate.  Oh!  he  wouldn't  tell 
me  he  could  run  if  it  were  not  true." 

"I  don't  think  he  will  consent  when 
he  learns  the  truth." 

"I  assure  you,"  said  Miss  Blake, 
sweetly,  "he  will  be  delighted." 


o 


CHAPTER  III 

IT  was  still  early  in  the  afternoon 
when  Jack  Chapin  and  the  youthful 
chaperon  found  the  other  young  people 
together  on  the  gallery. 

"Here's  a  telegram  from  Speed,"  be 
gan  Jack. 

"It's  terribly  funny,"  said  Mrs.  Kcap. 
"That  Mexican  brought  it  to  us  down 
at  the  spring-house." 

Miss  Blake  lost  her  bored  expression, 
and  sat  up  in  the  hammock. 

"'Mr.  Jack  Chapin,'"  read  the  owner 
of  the  Flying  Heart  Ranch.  * ' '  Dear  Jack : 
I  couldn't  wait  for  Covington,  so  meet 
with  brass-band  and  fireworks  this  after 
noon.  Have  flowers  in  bloom  in  the  little 
park  beside  the  depot,  and  see  that  the  dai 
sies  nod  to  me. — J.  Wallingford  Speed." 

"Park,  eh?"  said  Fresno,  dryly. 
33 


"Telegraph  office,  water -tank,  and  a 
cattle  -  chute.  Where  does  this  fellow 
think  he  is?" 

4 'Here  is  a  postscript,*'  added  Chapin. 

"'I  have  a  valet  who  does  not  seem 
to  enjoy  the  trip.  Divide  a  kiss  among 
the  girls.'" 

"Well,  well!  He's  stingy  with  his 
kisses,"  observed  Berkeley.  "Who  is 
this  humorous  party?" 

"He  was  a  Freshman  at  Yale  the 
year  I  graduated,"  explained  Jack. 

"Too  bad  he  never  got  out  of  that 
class."  It  was  evident  that  Mr.  Speed's 
levity  made  no  impression  upon  the 
Glee  Club  tenor.  "He  hates  to  talk 
about  himself,  doesn't  he?" 

"I  think  he  is  very  clever,"  said  Miss 
Blake,  warmly. 

"How  well  do  you  know  him?" 

"Not  as  well  as  I'd  like  to." 

Fresno  puffed  at  his  little  pipe  with 
out  remarking  at  this. 

"Well,  who  wants  to  go  and  meet 
him?"  queried  Jack. 

"Won't  you?"  asked  his  sister. 

"I  can't.  I've  just  got  word  from 
34 


the  Eleven  X  that  I'm  wanted.  The 
foreman  is  hurt.  I  may  not  be  back 
for  some  time." 

"Nigger  Mike  met  me,"  observed 
Fresno,  darkly. 

"Then  Nigger  Mike  for  Speed," 
laughed  the  cattle -man.  "I've  told 
Carara  to  hitch  up  the  pintos  for  me. 
I  must  be  going." 

"I'll  see  that  you  are  safely  started," 
said  the  young  widow;  and  leaving  the 
trio  on  the  gallery,  they  entered  the 
house. 

When  they  had  gone,  Jean  smiled 
"wisely  at  Helen.  "Roberta's  such  a 
thoughtful  chaperon,"  she  observed, 
whereupon  Miss  Blake  giggled. 

As  for  Mrs.  Keap,  she  was  inquiring 
of  Jack  with  genuine  solicitude: 

"Do  you  really  mean  that  you  may 
be  gone  for  some  time?" 

"I  do.  It  may  be  a  week;  it  may  be 
longer;  I  can't  tell  until  I  get  over 
there." 

"I'm  sorry."  Mrs.  Keap's  face  showed 
some  disappointment. 

"So  am  I." 

35 


"I  shall  have  to  look  out  for  these 
young  people  all  by  myself." 

"What  a  queer  little  way  you  have  of 
talking,  as  if  you  were  years  and  years 
old." 

"I  do  feel  as  if  I  were.  I — I — well, 
I  have  had  an  unhappy  experience. 
You  know  unhappiness  builds  months 
into  years." 

"When  Jean  got  up  this  house- 
party,"  young  Chapin  began,  absently, 
"I  thought  I  should  be  bored  to  death. 
But — I  haven't  been.  You  know,  I 
don't  want  to  go  over  there?"  He 
nodded  vaguely  toward  the  south. 

"I  thought  perhaps  it  suited  your  con 
venience."  His  companion  watched  him 
gravely.  "Are  you  quite  sure  that  your 
sister's  guests  have  not — had  something 
to  do  with  this  sudden  determination?" 

"I  am  quite  sure.  I  never  liked  the 
old  Flying  Heart  so  much  as  I  do  to-day. 
I  never  regretted  leaving  it  so  much 
as  I  do  at  this  moment." 

"We  may  be  gone  before  you  return." 

Young  Chapin  started.  "You  don't 
mean  that,  really?" 

36 


Mrs.  Keap  nodded  her  dark  head. 
"It  was  all  very  well  for  me  to  chaperon 
Helen  on  the  way  out  from  the  East, 
but — it  isn't  exactly  regular  for  me  to 
play  that  part  here  with  other  young 
people  to  look  after." 

"But  you  understand,  of  course — Jean 
must  have  explained  to  you.  Mother 
was  called  away  suddenly,  and  she  can't 
get  back  now.  You  surely  won't  leave 
— you  can't."  Chapin  added,  hopefully: 
"Why,  you  would  break  up  Jean's  party. 
You  see,  there's  nobody  around  here  to 
take  your  place.1' 

"But- 

"  Nonsense!  This  is  an  uncon 
ventional  country.  What's  wrong  with 
you  as  a  chaperon,  anyway?  Nobody 
out  here  even  knows  what  a  chaperon 
is.  And  I'll  be  back  as  soon  as  I  can." 

"Do  you  really  think  that  would 
help?"  Roberta's  eyes  laughed  humor 
ously. 

"I'm  not  thinking  of  the  others,  I'm 

thinking  of  myself,"  declared  the  young 

man,  boldly.     "I  don't  want  you  to  go 

before  I  return.    You  must  not!    If  you 

37 


go,  I  —  I  shall  follow  you."  He  grasped 
her  hand  impulsively. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  the  chaperon.  "This 
makes  it  even  more  impossible.  Go! 
Go!"  She  pushed  him  away,  her  color 
surging.  "Go  to  your  old  Eleven  X 
Ranch  right  away." 

"But  I  mean  it,"  he  declared,  earnest 
ly.  Then,  as  she  retreated  farther:  "It's 
no  use,  I  sha'n't  go  now  until — " 

"You  have  known  me  less  than  a 
week!" 

"That  is  long  enough.     Roberta — " 

Mrs.  Keap  spoke  with  honest  em 
barrassment.  "Listen!  Don't  you  see 
what  a  situation  this  is?  If  Jean  and 
Helen  should  ever  discover — " 

"Jean  planned  it  all;   even  this." 

Mrs.  Keap  stared  at  him  in  horrified 
silence. 

"You  do  love  me,  Roberta?"  Chapin 
undertook  to  remove  the  girl's  hands 
from  her  face,  when  a  slight  cough  in  the 
hall  behind  caused  him  to  turn  sud 
denly  in  time  to  see  Berkeley  Fresno 
passing  the  open  door. 

"There!  You  see!"  Mrs.  Keap's  face 
38 


was  tragic.  "You  see!"  She  turned 
and  fled,  leaving  the  master  of  the  ranch 
in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  bewildered, 
but  a  bit  inclined  to  be  happy.  A  mo 
ment  later  the  plump  face  of  Berkeley 
Fresno  appeared  cautiously  around  the 
door-jamb.  He  coughed  again  gravely. 
"I  happened  to  be  passing,"  said  he. 
"You'll  pardon  me?" 

"This  is  the  most  thickly  settled  spot 
in  New  Mexico!"  Chapin  declared,  with 
an  artificial  laugh,  choking  his  indigna 
tion. 

Fresno  slowly  brought  his  round  body 
out  from  concealment. 

"I  came  in  to  get  a  match." 
"Why  don't  you  carry  matches?" 
Fresno  puffed  complacently  upon  his 
pipe.     "This,"    he   mused,    as   his   host 
departed,  "eliminates  the  chaperon,  and 
that  helps  some." 

Still  Bill  Stover  lost  no  time  in  break 
ing  the  news  to  the  boys. 

"There's  something  comin'  off,"  he 
advised  Willie.  "We've  got  another 
foot -runner!" 

39 


If  he  had  hoped  for  an  outburst  of 
rapture  on  the  part  of  the  little  gun 
man  he  was  disappointed,  for  Willie 
shifted  his  holster,  smiled  evilly  through 
his  glasses,  and  inquired,  with  ominous 
restraint : 

''Where  is  he?" 

Being  the  one  man  on  the  Flying 
Heart  who  had  occasion  to  wear  a  gun, 
Willie  seldom  smiled  from  a  sense  of 
humor.  Here  it  may  be  said  that,  de 
ceived  at  first  by  his  scholarly  appear 
ance,  his  fellow-laborers  had  jibed  at 
Willie's  affectation  of  a  swinging  holster, 
but  the  custom  had  languished  abruptly. 
When  it  became  known  who  he  was,  the 
other  ranch-hands  had  volubly  declared 
that  this  was  a  free  country,  where  a 
man  might  exercise  a  wide  discretion  in 
the  choice  of  personal  adornment;  and 
as  for  them,  they  avowed  unanimously 
that  the  practice  of  packing  a  Colts  was 
one  which  met  with  their  most  cordial 
approbation.  In  time  Willie's  six-shoot 
er  had  become  accepted  as  a  part  of  the 
local  scenery,  and,  like  the  scenery,  no 
one  thought  of  remarking  upon  it,  least 

40 


of  all  those  who  best  knew  his  lack  of 
humor.  He  had  come  to  them  out  of 
the  Nowhere,  some  four  years  previously, 
and  while  he  never  spoke  of  himself,  and 
discouraged  reminiscence  in  others,  it 
became  known  through  those  vague 
uncharted  channels  by  which  news 
travels  on  the  frontier,  that  back  in 
the  Texas  Panhandle  there  was  a  limp 
ing  marshal  who  felt  regrets  at  mention 
of  his  name,  and  that  farther  north 
were  other  men  who  had  a  superstitious 
dread  of  undersized  cow-men  with  spec 
tacles.  There  were  also  stories  of  lone 
some  "run-ins,"  which,  owing  to  Willie's 
secretiveness  and  the  permanent  silence 
of  the  other  participants,  never  became 
more  than  intangible  rumors.  But  he 
was  a  good  ranchman,  attended  to  his 
business,  and  the  sheriff's  office  was  re 
mote,  so  Willie  had  worked  on  unmo 
lested. 

"This  here  is  a  real  foot-runner,"  said 
Stover. 

1 '  Exactly, ' '  agreed  the  other.  ' '  Where 
is  he?" 

"He'll  be  here  this  afternoon.  Nigger 
41 


Mike's  bringin'  him  over  from  the  rail 
road.  He's  a  guest." 

"Oh!" 

"Yep!  He's  intercollegit  champeen 
of  Yale." 

"Yale?"  repeated  the  near-sighted 
man.  "Don't  know's  I  ever  been  there. 
Much  of  a  town?" 

"I  ain't  never  travelled  East  myself, 
but  Miss  Jean  and  the  little  yaller- haired 
girl  say  he's  the  fastest  man  in  the  world. 
I  figgered  we  might  rib  up  something 
with  the  Centipede."  Still  Bill  winked 
sagely. 

"See  here,  do  you  reckon  he'd  run?" 

"Sure!  He's  a  friend  of  the  boss. 
And  he'll  run  on  the  level,  too.  He 
can't  be  nothin'  like  Humpy." 

"If  he  is,  I'll  git  him,"  said  the  cow 
boy.  "Oh,  I'll  git  him  sure,  guest  or 
no  guest.  But  how  about  the  phono 
graph?" 

"The  Centipede  will  put  it  up  quick 
enough ;  there  ain't  no  sentiment  in  that 
outfit." 

"Then  it  sounds  good/1 

"An'  it  '11  work.  Gallagher's  anxious 
42 


to  trim  us  again.  Some  folks  can't  stand 
prosperity." 

Willie  spat  unerringly  at  a  grass 
hopper.  "Lord!"  said  he,  "it's  too 
good!  It  don't  sound  possible." 

"Well,  it  is,  and  our  man  will  be  here 
this  evenin'.  Watch  out  for  Nigger 
Mike,  and  when  he  drives  up  let's  give 
this  party  a  welcome  that  '11  warm  his 
heart  on  the  jump.  There's  nothin'  like 
a  good  impression." 

"I'll  be  on  the  job,"  assured  Willie. 
"But  I  state  right  here  and  now,  if  we 
do  get  a  race  there  ain't  a-goin'  to  be 
no  chance  of  our  losin'  for  a  second 
time." 

And  Stover  went  on  his  way  to  spread 
the  tidings. 

It  was  growing  dark  when  the  rattle 
of  wheels  outside  the  ranch-house 
brought  the  occupants  to  the  porch  in 
time  to  see  Nigger  Mike  halt  his  buck- 
board  and  two  figures  prepare  to  descend. 

"It's  Mr.  Speed!"  cried  Miss  Blake. 
Then  she  uttered  a  scream  as  the  velvet 
darkness  was  rent  by  a  dozen  tongues 

4  43 


of  flame,  while  a  shrill  yelping  arose,  as 
of  an  Apache  war-party. 

"It's  the  boys,"  said  Jean.  "What  on 
earth  has  possessed  them?" 

But  Stover  had  planned  no  ordinary 
reception,  and  the  pandemonium  did 
not  cease  until  the  men  had  emptied 
their  weapons. 

Then  Mr.  J.  Wallingford  Speed  came 
stumbling  up  the  steps  and  into  the 
arms  of  his  friends,  the  tails  of  his  dust- 
coat  streaming. 

* '  Really  ?  This  is  more  than  I  ex 
pected,"  he  gasped;  then  turning,  doffed 
his  straw  hat  to  the  half -revealed  figures 
beyond  the  light,  and  cried,  gayly: 
"Thank  you,  gentlemen!  Thank  you 
for  missing  me!" 

"Yow — ee!"  responded  the  cowboys. 

"How  do  you  do,  Miss  Chapin!" 
Speed  shook  hands  with  his  hostess,  and 
in  the  radiance  from  the  open  doorway 
she  saw  that  his  face  was  round  and 
boyish,  and  his  smile  peculiarly  en 
gaging. 

She  welcomed  him  appropriately; 
then  said:  "This  reception  is  quite  as 
44 


startling  to  us  as  to  you.  You  know, 
Mr.  Speed,  that  we  have  with  us  a  friend 
of  yours."  She  slightly  drew  Helen 
forward.  "And  this  is  Mrs.  Keap,  who 
is  looking  after  us  a  bit  while  mother 
is  away.  Roberta,  may  I  present  Mr. 
Covington's  friend,  and  ask  you  to  be 
good  to  him?" 

"Don't  forget  me,"  said  Fresno,  push 
ing  into  the  light. 

"Mr.  Berkeley  Fresno,  of  Leland 
Stanford  University." 

"Hello,  Frez'"  Speed  thrust  out  his 
hand  warmly.  Not  so  the  Californian. 
He  replied,  with  hauteur: 

"Fresno!  F-r-e-s-n-o " ;  and  allowed 
the  new-comer  to  grasp  a  limp,  moist 
hand. 

"Ah!  Go  to  the  head  of  the  class! 
I'm  sorry  you  broke  your  wrist,  how 
ever."  The  Eastern  lad  spoke  lightly, 
and  gave  the  palm  a  hearty  squeeze, 
then  turned  to  Jean. 

"I  dare  say  you  are  all  disappointed, 

Miss   Chapin,   that   Culver  didn't  come 

with  me,  but  he'll  be  along  in  a  day 

or  so.     I    simply   couldn't   wait."     He 

4$ 


avoided  glancing  at  Helen  Blake,  whose 
answering  blush  was  lost  in  the  darkness. 

"I  did  think  when  you  drove  up  that 
might  be  Mr.  Covington  with  you,"  Miss 
Chapin  remarked,  wistfully. 

"Oh  no,  that's  my  man."  Speed 
glanced  around  him.  ' '  And,  by-the-way, 
where  is  he?" 

The  sound  of  angry  voices  came 
through  the  gloom,  then  out  into  the 
light  came  Still  Bill  Stover,  Willie,  and 
Carara,  dragging  between  them  a  globu 
lar  person  who  was  rebelling  loudly. 

" Stover,  what  is  this?"  questioned 
Miss  Chapin,  stepping  to  the  edge  of  the 
veranda. 

"This  gent  stampedes  in  the  midst 
of  our  welcome,"  explained  the  fore 
man,  "so  we  have  to  rope  him  before  he 
gets  away."  It  was  seen  now  that 
Carara 's  lariat  was  tightly  drawn  about 
the  new  arrival's  waist. 

Then  the  valet  broke  into  coherent 
speech,  but  he  spoke  a  tongue  not  com 
mon  to  his  profession. 

"Nix  on  that  welcome  stuff,"  he 
burst  forth,  in  husky,  alcoholic  accents; 
46 


"that  goes  on  the  door- mat!"  It  was 
plain  that  he  was  very  angry.  "If  that 
racket  menus  welcome,  I  don't  want  it. 
Take  that  clothes-line  off  of  me." 
Carara  loosened  the  noose,  and  his 
captive  rolled  up  the  steps  mopping 
his  face  with  his  handkerchief. 

"What  made  you  run  away?"  de 
manded  Speed. 

"Any  time  a  bunch  of  bandits  unhitch 
their  gats,  I'm  on  my  way,"  sputtered 
the  fat  man.  "I'm  gun-shy,  see?  And 
when  this  hold-up  comes  off  I  beat  it  till 
that  Cuban  rummy  with  the  medals  on 
his  dicer  rides  a  live  horse  up  my  back." 

"You  don't  appreciate  the  honor/' 
explained  his  employer;  then  turning  to 
the  others,  he  announced:  "Will  you 
allow  me  to  introduce  Mr.  Lawrence 
Glass?  He  isn't  really  a  valet,  you 
know,  Miss  Chapin,  and  he  doesn't  care 
for  the  West  yet.  It  is  his  first  trip." 

"I  have  heard  my  brother  speak  of 
Larry  Glass,"  said  Jean,  graciously. 

Mr.  Glass  courtesied  awkwardly,  and 
swinging  his  right  foot  back  of  his  left, 
tapped  the  floor  with  his  toe. 
47 


"You  were  a  trainer  at  Yale  when 
Jack  was  there?" 

"That's  me,"  Mr.  Glass  wheezed.  "I'm 
there  with  the  big  rub,  too.  Wally  said 
he  was  going  to  train  during  vacation, 
so  he  staked  me  to  a  trip  out  here,  and 
I  came  along  to  look  after  him." 

"Come  into  the  house,"  said  Jean. 
"Stover  will  see  to  your  baggage." 

As  they  entered,  Mr.  Berkeley  Fresno 
saw  the  late  arrival  bend  over  Helen 
Blake,  and  heard  him  murmur: 

"The  same  unforgettable  eyes  of  Ital 
ian  blue." 

And  Mr.  Fresno  decided  to  dislike 
Wally  Speed,  even  if  it  required  an 
effort. 


r 


CHAPTER  IV 


IT  was  on  the  following  morning  tnat 
Miss  Blake  made  bold  to  request  her 
favor  from  J.  Wallingford  Speed.  They 
had  succeeded  in  isolating  themselves 
upon  the  vine-shaded  gallery  at  the  rear 
of  the  house,  and  the  conversation  had 
been  largely  of  athletics,  but  this,  judg 
ing  from  the  rapt  expression  of  the  girl, 
was  a  subject  of  surpassing  interest. 
Speed,  quick  to  take  a  cue,  plunged  on. 

"I  would  have  made  the  Varsity 
basket-ball  team  myself  if  I  hadn't 
been  so  tiny,"  said  Helen.  "I  have 
always  wanted  to  be  tall,  like  Roberta." 

"I  shouldn't  care  for  that,"  said  the 
young  man. 

49 


"You  know  she  was  a  wonderful 
player?" 

44 So  I've  heard." 

"Do  you  know,"  mused  Helen,  "I 
have  never  forgotten  what  you  told  me 
that  first  day  we  met.  I  think  it  was 
perfectly  lovely  of  you." 

"What  was  that?"  Now  it  must  be 
admitted  that  J.  Wallingford  Speed,  in 
his  relations  with  the  other  sex,  frequent 
ly  found  himself  in  a  position  requiring 
mental  gymnastics  of  a  high  order;  but, 
as  a  rule,  his  memory  was  good,  and  he 
seldom  crossed  his  own  trail,  so  to  speak. 
In  this  instance  he  was  utterly  without 
remembrance,  however,  and  hence  was 
non-committal. 

"What  you  told  me  about  your 
friendship  for  Mr.  Co vington.  I  think 
it  is  very  unselfish  of  you." 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  say  that,"  ventured 
the  young  man,  vainly  racking  his  brain. 
"Nobody  could  help  liking  Culver." 

1 '  Yes ;  but  how  many  men  would  step 
aside  and  let  their  best  friend  win  prize 
after  prize  and  never  undertake  to  com 
pete  against  him?" 


Speed  blushed  faintly,  as  any  modest 
man  might  have  done. 

"Did  I  tell  you  that?"  he  inquired. 

"Indeed  you  did." 

"Then  please  don't  speak  of  it  to  a 
mortal  soul.  I  must  have  said  a  great 
deal  that  first  day,  but — " 

"But  I  have  spoken  of  it,  and  I  said  I 
thought  it  was  fine  of  you." 

"You  have  spoken  of  it  ?" 

"Yes;  I  told  Jean." 

The  Yale  man  undertook  to  change 
the  conversation  abruptly,  but  Miss 
Blake  was  a  determined  young  lady, 
She  continued: 

"Of  course,  it  was  very  magnanimous 
of  you  to  always  step  aside  in  favor  of 
your  best  friend ;  but  it  isn't  fair  to  your 
self — it  really  isn't.  And  so  I  have 
arranged  a  little  plan  whereby  you  can 
do  something  to  prove  your  prowess, 
and  still  not  interfere  with  Mr.  Covington 
in  the  least." 

Speed  cleared  his  throat  nervously. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said,  "what  it  is." 

And  Miss  Blake  told  him  the  story  of 
the  shocking  treachery  of  Humpy  Joe, 


together  with  the  miserable  undoing  of 
the  Flying  Heart.  "Why,  those  poor 
fellows  are  broken-hearted,"  she  con 
cluded.  "Their  despair  over  losing  that 
talking-machine  would  be  funny  if  it 
were  not  so  tragic.  I  told  them  you 
would  win  it  back  for  them .  And  you  will, 
won't  you?  Please!"  She  turned  her 
blue  eyes  upon  him  appealingly,  and 
the  young  man  was  lost. 

"I'll  take  ten  chances,"  he  said. 
11  Where  does  the  raffle  come  off?" 

"Oh,  it  isn't  a  raffle,  it's  a  foot-race. 
You  must  run  with  that  Centipede  cook." 

"I!  Run  a  race!"  exclaimed  the 
young  college  man,  aghast. 

"Yes,  I've  promised  that  you  would. 
You  see,  this  isn't  like  a  college  event, 
and  Culver  isn't  here  yet." 

"But  he'll  be  here  in  a  day  or  so." 
Speed  felt  as  if  a  very  large  man  were 
choking  him;  he  decided  his  collar  was 
too  tight. 

"Oh,  I've  talked  it  all  over  with  Jean. 
She  doesn't  want  Culver  to  run,  anyhow." 

"Why  not?"  inquired  he,  suspiciously. 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure." 
52 


"If  Miss  Chapin  doesn't  want  Culver 
to  run,  you  surely  wouldn't  want  me  to." 

"Not  at  all.  If  Mr.  Covington  knew 
the  facts  of  the  case,  he  would  be  only 
too  happy  to  do  it.  And,  you  see,  you 
know  the  facts." 

Speed  was  about  to  shape  a  gracious 
but  firm  refusal  of  the  proffered  honor 
when  Still  Bill  Stover  appeared  at  the 
steps,  doffed  his  faded  Stetson,  and 
bowed  limply. 

"Mornin',  Miss  Blake."  To  the  rear 
Speed  saw  three  other  men — an  Indian, 
tall,  swart,  and  saturnine,  who  walked 
with  a  limp ;  a  picturesque  Mexican  with 
a  spangled  hat  and  silver  spurs,  evident 
ly  the  captor  of  Lawrence  Glass  on  the 
evening  previous ;  and  an  undersized  little 
man  with  thick-rimmed  spectacles  and 
a  heavy-hanging  holster  from  which 
peeped  a  gun-butt.  All  were  smiling 
pleasantly,  and  seemed  a  bit  abashed. 

" Good  -  morning,    Mr.    Stover,"    said 
Helen,  pleasantly.   "This  is  Mr.  Speed, 
of  whom  I  spoke  to  you  yesterday." 
Stover  bowed    again    and    mumbled 
something  about  the  honor  of  this 
53 


meeting,  and  Miss  Blake  cast  her  eyes 
over  the  other  members  of  the  group, 
saying,  graciously:  "I'm  afraid  I  can't 
introduce  your  friends;  I  haven't  met 
them." 

The  loquacious  foreman  came  prompt 
ly  to  the  rescue,  rejoicing  in  an  oppor 
tunity  of  displaying  his  oratorical  gifts. 

"Then  I'll  make  you  acquainted  with 
the  best  brandin'  outfit  in  these  parts." 
He  waved  a  long,  bony  arm  at  the 
Mexican,  who  flashed  his  white  teeth. 
"This  Greaser  is  Aurelio  Maria  Carara. 
Need  I  say  he's  Mex,  and  a  preemeer 
roper?"  Carara  bowed,  and  swept  the 
ground  with  his  high-peaked  head-piece. 
"The  Maduro  gent  yonder  is  Mr.  Cloudy. 
His  mother  being  a  Navajo  squaw,  named 
him,  accordin'  to  the  rights  and  customs 
of  her  tribe,  selecting  the  title  of  Cloudy- 
but  -  the  -  Sun  -  Shines,  which  same  has 
proved  a  misnomer,  him  bein'  a  pessimist 
for  fair." 

Miss  Blake  and  her  companion  smiled 
and  nodded,  at  which  Stover,  encouraged 
beyond  measure,  elaborated. 

"Pie's  had  a  hist'ry,  too.     When  he 

54 


reaches  man's  real-estate  the  Injun  agent 
ropes,  throws,  and  hog-ties  him,  then 
sends  him  East  to  be  cultivated.  He 
spends  four  years  kickin'  a  football- 
Speed  interrupted,  with  an  exclamation 
of  genuine  interest. 

"Oh,  it's  true  as  gospel,"  the  foreman 
averred.  "When  he  goes  lame  in  his 
off  leg  they  ship  him  back,  and  in  spite 
of  them  handicaps  he  has  become  one 
rustlin'  savage  at  a  round-up." 

"What  college  did  you  attend?"  in 
quired  Speed,  politely.  The  question 
fell  upon  unresponsive  ears.  Cloudy  did 
not  stir  nor  alter  the  direction  of  his 
sombre  glance. 

"He  don'  talk  none,"  Stover  explained. 
"Conversation,  which  I  esteem  as  a  gift 
deevine,  is  a  lost  art  with  him.  I 
reckon  he  don't  average  a  word  a  week. 
What  language  he  did  know  he  has  for 
got,  and  what  he  ain't  forgot  he  dis 
trusts." 

Turning  to  the  near-sighted  man  who 
had  been  staring  at  the  college  youth 
meanwhile,  the  spokesman  took  a  deep 
breath,  and  said,  simply  yet  proudly,  as  if 

55 


describing  the  piece  de  resistance  of  this 
exhibition  : 

"The  four-eyed  gent  is  Willie,  plain 
Willie,  a  born  range -rider,  and  the  best 
hip  shot  this  side  of  the  Santa  F6  trail!" 

Speed  beheld  an  undersized  man  of 
indeterminate  age,  hollow-chested,  thin- 
faced,  gravely  benignant.  It  was  not 
alone  his  glasses  that  lent  him  a  scholar 
ly  appearance ;  he  had  the  stooped  shoul 
ders,  the  thoughtful  intensity  of  gaze, 
the  gentle,  hesitating  backwardness  of  a 
book-raised  man.  There  were  tutors  at 
Yale  quite  as  colorless,  characterless  and 
indefinite,  and  immensely  more  forceful. 
In  place  of  the  revolver  at  his  belt,  it 
seemed  as  if  Willie  should  have  carried 
a  geologist's  pick,  a  butterfly-net,  or  a 
magnifying-glass:  one  was  prepared  to 
hear  him  speak  learned^  of  microscopy, 
or  even,  perhaps,  of  settlement  work.  As 
a  cowboy  he  was  utterly  out  of  place,  and 
it  was  quite  impossible  to  take  Stover's 
words  seriously.  Nevertheless,  Speed  ac 
knowledged  the  introduction  pleasantly, 
while  the  benevolent  little  man  blinked 
back  of  his  lenses. 

56 


Stover  addressed  himself  to  Miss 
Blake. 

"I  told  the  boys  what  you  said,  miss, 
and  we  four  has  come  as  a  delegation  to 
find  out  if  it  goes." 

"Mr.  Speed  and  I  were  just  talking 
about  it  when  you  came,"  said  Helen. 
"I'm  sure  he  will  consent  if  you  add 
your  entreaties  to  mine." 

"It  would  sure  be  a  favor,"  said  the 
cow -man,  at  which  the  others  drew 
nearer,  as  if  hanging  on  Speed's  answer. 
Even  Cloudy  turned  his  black  eyes  upon 
the  young  man. 

The  object  of  their  co-operate  gaze 
shifted  his  feet  uncomfortably  and  felt 
minded  to  flee,  but  the  situation  would 
not  permit  of  it.  Besides,  the  affair  in 
terested  him.  His  mind  was  working 
rapidly,  albeit  his  words  were  hesitating. 

"I — I'm  afraid  I'm  not  in  shape  to 
run,"  he  ventured.  But  Stover  would 
have  none  of  this  modesty,  admirable  as 
it  might  appear. 

"Oh,  I  talked  with  your  trainer  just 
now.  I  told  him  you  was  tipped  off  to 
us  as  a  sprinter." 

57 


"What  did  he  say?'*  inquired  Speed, 
with  alarm. 

"He  said  'no'  at  first,  till  I  told  him 
who  let  it  out ;  then  he  laughed,  and  said 
he  guessed  you  was  a  runner,  but  you 
didn't  work  at  it  regular.  I  asked  him 
how  good  you  was,  and  he  said  none 
of  the  college  teams  would  let  you  run. 
That's  good  enough  for  us,  Mr.  Speed." 

"But  I'm  not  in  condition,"  objected 
the  youth,  with  a  sigh  of  gratitude  at 
Glass's  irony. 

"I  reckon  he  knows  more  about  that 
than  you  do.  We  covered  that  point 
too,  and  Mr.  Glass  said  you  was  never 
better  than  you  are  right  now.  Any 
how,  you  don't  have  to  bust  no  records 
to  beat  this  cook.  He  ain't  so  fast." 

"It  would  sure  be  a  kind-hearted  act 
if  you'd  do  it  for  us,"  said  the  little  man 
in  his  high,  boyish  voice.  It  was  a 
shock  to  discover  that  he  spoke  in  a 
dialect.  "There's  a  heap  of  sentiment 
connected  with  this  affair.  You  see, 
outside  of  being  a  prize  that  we  won  at 
considerable  risk,  there  goes  with  this 
phonograph  a  set  of  reecords,  among 

58 


which  we  all  have  our  special  favorites. 
Have  you  ever  heard  Madam-o-selia 
Melby  sing  The  Holy  City?" 

"I  didn't  know  she  sang  it,"  said 
Speed. 

"Take  it  from  me,  she  did,  and 
you've  missed  a  heap." 

"You  bet,"  Stover  agreed,  in  a  hushed, 
awed  tone. 

"Well,  you  must  have  heard  Missus 
Heleney  Moray  in  The  Baggage  Coach 
Ahead?"  queried  the  scholarly  little  man. 
At  mention  of  his  beloved  classic,  Carara, 
the  Mexican,  murmured,  softly : 

"Ah!  The  Baggage  Car— Te'adora 
Mora!  God  bless  'er!" 

"I  must  confess  I've  never  had  the 
pleasure,"  said  Speed,  whereupon  the 
speaker  regarded  him  pityingly,  and 
Stover,  jealous  that  so  much  of  the  con 
versation  had  escaped  him,  inquired: 

"Can  it  be  that  you  never  heard  that 
monologue,  Silas  on  Fifth  Avenoo?" 

Again  Speed  shook  his  head. 

As  if  the  very  memory  were  hilarious 
ly  funny,  Still  Bill's  shoulders  heaved, 
and  stifled  laughter  caused  his  Adam's 

5  59 


apple  to  race  up  and  down  his  leathern 
throat.  Swallowing  his  merriment  at 
length,  he  recited,  in  a  choking  voice, 
as  follows:  "Silas  goes  up  Fifth  Avenoo 
and  climbs  into  a  bus.  There  is  a 
girl  settin'  opposite.  He  says,  'The 
girl  opened  her  valise,  took  out  her  purse, 
closed  her  valise,  opened  her  purse,  took 
out  a  dime,  closed  her  purse,  opened  her 
valise,  put  in  her  purse,  closed  her 
valise,  handed  the  dime  to  the  con 
ductor,  got  a  nickle  in  change,  opened 
her  valise,  took  out  her  purse,  closed  her 
valise,  opened  her  purse — '" 

At  this  point  the  speaker  fell  into 
ungovernable  hysteria  and  exploded, 
rocking  back  and  forth,  slapping  his 
thighs  and  hiccoughing  with  enjoyment. 
Willie  followed  him,  as  did  Carara.  Even 
Cloudy  showed  his  teeth,  and  the  two 
young  people  on  the  porch  found  them 
selves  joining  in  from  infection.  It 
was  patent  that  here  lay  some  subtle 
humor  sufficient  to  convulse  the  Far 
Western  nature  beyond  all  reason;  for 
Stover  essayed  repeatedly  to  check  his 
laughter  before  gasping,  finally: 
60 


"Gosh  'Imighty!  I  never  can  get  past 
that  place.  He!  He!  He!  Whoo- 
hoo!  That's  sure  ridic'lous,  for  fair." 
He  wiped  his  eyes  with  the  back  of  a 
sun-browned  hand,  and  his  frame  was 
racked  with  barking  coughs.  "I  know 
the  whole  blame  thing  by  heart,  but — 
I  can't  recite  it  to  you.  I  bog  down 
right  there.  Seems  like  some  folks 
is  the  darndest  fools!" 

Speed  allowed  this  good -humor  to 
banish  his  trepidation,  and  assured  the 
foreman  that  Silas  on  Fifth  Avenue 
must  indeed  be  a  very  fine  monologue. 

"It's  my  favorite,"  said  Still  Bill,  "but 
we  all  have  our  picks.  Cloudy  here 
likes  Navajo,  which  I  agree  is  attuned  to 
please  the  savage  y'ear,  but  to  my  mind 
it  ain't  in  the  runnin'  with  Silas." 

"You  see  what  the  phonograph  means 
to  these  gentlemen,"  said  Miss  Blake. 
"I  think  it's  a  crying  shame  that  they 
were  cheated  out  of  it,  don't  you?" 

Speed  began  to  outline  a  plan  hastily 
in  his  mind. 

"I  assured  them  that  you  would  win 
it  back  for  them,  and — " 
61 


"We  sure  hope  you  will,"  said  Willie, 
earnestly. 

"Amen!"  breathed  the  lanky  foreman, 
his  cheeks  still  wet  from  his  tears  of 
laughter,  but  his  face  drawn  into  lines 
of  eagerness. 

1 '  Please !  For  my  sake !"  urged  Helen, 
placing  a  gentle  little  hand  upon  her 
companion's  arm. 

Speed  closed  his  eyes,  so  to  speak, 
and  leaped  in  the  dark. 

"All  right,  I'll  do  it!" 

' '  Yow-ee !"  yelled  Stover.  ' '  We  knew 
you  would!"  Willie  was  beaming  be 
nignant  ly  through  his  glasses,  while  botk 
Garara  and  Cloudy  showed  their  heart 
felt  gratitude.  "Thank  you,  Miss  Blake. 
Now  we'll  show  up  that  shave-tail  Centi 
pede  crowd  for  what  it  is." 

' '  Wait !"  Speed  checked  the  outburst. 
"I'll  consent  upon  conditions.  I'll  run, 
provided  you  can  arrange  the  race  for 
an  'unknown." 

"What  does  that  mean?"  Helen 
asked. 

' '  It  means  that  I  don't  want  my  name 
known  in  the  matter.  Instead  of  ar- 
62 


ranging  for  Mr.  Whatever-the-Cook's- 
Name-Is  to  run  a  race  with  J.  W.  Speed, 
he  must  agree  to  compete  against  a  rep 
resentative  of  the  Flying  Heart  ranch, 
same  unknown." 

"I  don't  think  that  is  fair!"  cried  the 
girl.  "Think  of  the  honor." 

"Yes,  but  I'm  an  amateur.  I'd  lose 
my  standing." 

' ' That  goes  for  us, "  said  Stover.  ' '  We 
don't  care  what  name  you  run  under. 
We'll  frame  the  race.  Lordy!  but  this 
is  a  glorious  event." 

"We  can't  thank  you  enough," 
Willie  piped.  "You're  a  true  sport, 
Mr.  Speed,  and  we  aim  to  see  that 
you  don't  get  the  worst  of  it  in  no 
way.  This  here  race  is  goin'  to  be 
on  the  square — you  hear  me  talk- 
in*.  No  double-cross  this  time." 
Unconsciously  the  speaker's  hand 
strayed  to  the  gun  at  his  belt,  while  his 
smile  was  grim.  Speed  started. 

"What  day  shall  we  set?"  inquired 
Stover. 

Wally  rapidly  calculated  the  date  of 
Culver's  arrival,  and  said: 
63 


"A  week  from  Saturday."  Covington 
would  soon  be  en  route,  and  was  due  to 
arrive  a  few  days  thereafter. 

"We'd  like  to  make  it  to-morrow, " 
ventured  Willie. 

"Oh,  but  I  must  have  a  chance  to  get 
in  trim,"  said  the  college  man. 

"One  week  from  Saturday  goes,"  an 
nounced  Stover,  "and  we  thank  you 
again."  Turning  to  Carara,  he  directed: 
"Rope  your  buckskin,  and  hike  for  the 
Centipede.  Tell  'em  to  unlimber  their 
coin.  I'll  draw  a  month's  wages  in 
advance  for  every  son-of-a-gun  on  the 
Flying  Heart,  and  we'll  arrange  details 
to-night." 

"SI,"  agreed  Carara.     "I  go." 

"And  don't  waste  no  time  neither," 
directed  Willie.  "You  tear  like  a  jack- 
rabbit  ahead  of  a  hot  wind." 

Carara  tossed  his  cigarette  aside,  and 
the  sound  of  his  spurs  was  1'ost  around 
the  corner  of  the  house. 

"This  makes  a  boy  of  me,"  the  last 
speaker  continued.  "I  can  hear  the 
plaintiff  notes  of  Madam-o-sella  Melby 
once  again." 

64 


CHAPTER  V 

E.RRY  GLASS  discovered  his  prote'ge' 
on  the  rear  porch  engrossed  with 
Miss  Blake,  and  signalled  him  from  afar ; 
but  the  young  man  ignored  the  sig 
nal,  and  the  trainer  strolled  up  to  the 
steps. 

"Hello,  Larry!  What's  on  your 
mind?"  inquired  Speed. 

"I'd  like  to  see  you."  Glass,  clad  in 
his  sportiest  garments,  seemed  utterly 
lacking  in  the  proper  appreciation  of  a 
valet's  position.  He  treated  his  em 
ployer  with  a  tolerant  good-nature. 

Miss  Blake  excused  herself  and  went 
into  the  house,  whereupon  her  companion 
showed  his  irritation.  "See  here,  Larry, 
don't  you  know  better  than  to  interrupt 
me  in  the  midst  of  a  hammock  talk?" 

"Oh,   that's  all  right,"   wheezed   the 
trainer.     "As  long  as  you  didn't  spill 
her  out,  she'll  be  back." 
65 


" Well,  what  is  it?" 
"I  had  a  stomach-laugh  slipped  to 
me  just  now."     He  began  to  shake. 

"So  you  broke  up  my  t£te-a-t£te  to 
tell  me  a  funny  story?" 

"Listen  here.     These  cowboys  have 
got    you    touted    for  a    foot-runner." 
This  time  Glass  laughed  aloud,  hoarsely. 
"They   have    framed    a    race   with   a 
ginny  down  the  block." 
"All  right,  I'll  run." 
Mr.    Glass's    face    abruptly    fell  into 
solemn  lines.    ' '  Quit  your  kiddin' ,  Wally ; 
you  couldn't  run  a   hundred   yards  in 
twenty  minutes.     These  guys  are  on  the 
level.     They've  sent  General  Garcia  over 
to  cook  it." 

"Yes.  The  race  comes  off  in  ten 
days." 

Glass  allowed  his  mouth  to  drop  open 
and  his  little  eyes  to  peer  forth  in 
startled  amazement. 

"Then  it's  true?  I  guess  this  climate 
is  too  much  for  you,"  he  said.  "When 
did  you  feel  this  comin'  on?" 

Speed  laughed.  "I  know  what  I'm 
doing." 

66 


With  an  effort  at  restraint,  the  trainer 
inquired : 

"What's  the  idea?" 

"I'll  tell  you  how  it  came  up,  Larry. 
I— I'm  very  fond  of  Miss  Blake.  That's 
why  I  broke  the  record  getting  out  here 
as  soon  as  I  was  invited.  Well,  she  be 
lieves,  from  something  I  said — one  of 
those  odd  moments,  you  know  —  that 
I'm  a  great  athlete,  and  she  told  those 
cowboys  that  I'd  gladly  put  on  my 
spiked  shoes  and  carry  their  colors  to 
victory.  You've  heard  about  the  pho 
nograph?" 

Glass  smiled  wearily.  "I  can't  hear 
nothing  else.  The  gang  is  daffy  on  grand 
opera." 

"When  I  was  accused  of  being  an 
athlete  I  couldn't  deny  it,  could  I?" 

"  I  see.  You  was  stringin'  the  gal,  and 
she  called  you,  eh?" 

"I  wouldn't  express  it  in  quite  those 
terms.  I  may  have  exaggerated  my 
abilities  slightly."  Glass  laughed.  "She 
is  such  a  great  admirer  of  athletics,  it 
was  quite  natural.  Any  man  would 
have  done  the  same.  She  got  me  com- 
67 


mftted  in  front  of  the  cowboys,  and  I 
had  to  accept — or  be  a  quitter." 

Glass  nodded  appreciatively.  "All 
the  same,"  said  he,  "you've  got  more 
nerve  than  a  burglar.  How  you  goin' 
to  side-step?" 

"I  made  the  match  for  an  'unknown/  " 
Speed  winked.  "Covington  will  be 
here  in  a  day  or  two.  I'll  wire  him  to 
hurry  up.  Fortunately  I  brought  a  lot 
of  athletic  clothes  with  me,  so  I'll  go  into 
training  under  your  direction.  When 
Covington  gets  here  I'll  let  him  run." 

The  fat  man  sighed  with  relief.  ' '  Now 
I'm  hep.  I  was  afraid  you'd  try  to  go 
through  with  it." 

"Hardly.  I'll  sprain  an  ankle,  or 
something.  She'll  be  there  with  the 
sympathy.  See?  Covington  will  run 
the  race;  the  cowboys  will  get  their 
phonograph ;  and  I'll  get — well,  if  I  can 
beat  out  this  Native  Son  tenor  singer, 
I'll  invite  you  to  the  wedding.  There 
wasn't  any  other  way  out." 

Glass  mopped  his  brow.  "You  had 
me  wingin'  for  a  while,  but  I  plugged 
your  game  with  the  cowboys.  Pawnee 
68 


Bill  and  his  Congress  of  Rough  Riders 
think  you're  a  cyclone." 

"It's  the  first  chance  I  ever  had  to 
wear  that  silk  running-suit.  Who  knows, 
maybe  I  can  run!" 

"Nix,  now!  Don't  kid  yourself  too 
far.  This  thing  is  funny  enough  as  it 
stands." 

"Oh,  I  dare  say  it  looks  like  a  joke  to 
you,  but  it  doesn't  to  me,  Larry.  If  I 
don't  marry  that  girl,  I — I'll  go  off  my 
balance,  that's  all,  and  I'm  not  going 
to  overlook  any  advantage  whatever. 
Fresno  sings  love  -  songs,  and  he's  got  a 
mint  of  money.  Well,  I'm  going  to 
work  this  athletic  pose  to  death.  I'm 
going  into  training,  I'm  going  to  talk, 
eat,  sleep,  live  athletics  for  a  week,  and 
when  I'm  unexpectedly  crippled  on  the 
eve  of  the  race,  it  is  going  to  break  my 
heart.  Understand!  I  am  going  to  be 
so  desperately  disappointed  that  I'll 
have  to  choose  between  suicide  and 
marriage.  The  way  I  feel  now,  I  think 
I'll  choose  marriage.  But  you  must 
help." 

"Leave  it  to  me,  Bo!" 
69 


"  In  the  first  place,  I  want  some  train 
ing-quarters." 

"That's  right,  don't  be  a  piker." 

"And  I  want  you  to  boost." 

"I'm  there!     When  do  we  begin?" 

"Right  away.  Unpack  my  running- 
suit  and  rub  some  dirt  on  it — it's  too 
new.  I  think  I'll  limber  up,  and  let  her 
get  a  look  at  the  clothes." 

"It's  a  bright  idea;  but  don't  let 
these  animal-trainers  see  you  run,  or  the 
stuff  will  be  cold  in  a  minute." 

"Fine!  We'll  have  secret  practice! 
That  suits  me  perfectly."  Speed  laugh 
ed  with  joy. 

From  inside  the  house  came  the  strains 
of  Dearie,  sung  in  a  sympathetic  tenor, 
and  upon  the  conclusion  Berkeley 
Fresno's  voice  inquiring: 

"Miss  Blake,  did  I  ever  tell  you  about 
the  time  I  sang  Dearie  to  the  mayor's 
daughter  in  Walla  Walla?" 

Miss  Blake  appeared  on  the  gallery 
with  her  musical  admirer  at  her  elbow. 

"Yes,"  said  she,  sweetly.  "You  told 
me  all  about  the  mayor's  daughter  a 
week  ago."  Then  spying  Speed  and  his 
70 


companion,  she  exclaimed:  "Mr.  Fresno 
has  a  fine  voice,  hasn't  he  ?  He  sings 
with  the  Stanford  Glee  Club." 

"Indeed." 

' '  Sure  f '  The  Native  Son  of  the  Golden 
West  shook  up  a  hammock-cushion  for 
the  girl.  " Tenor!"  said  he,  sententiously. 

"Say  no  more,"  Speed  remarked; 
"it's  all  right  with  us!" 

Fresno  looked  up. 

"What's  wrong  with  my  singing?" 

"Oh,  I've  just  told  the  girls  that 
you're  going  to  run  that  foot-race," 
Helen  interposed,  hurriedly,  at  which 
Fresno  exploded. 

"What's  wrong  with  my  running?" 
inquired  Speed. 

"I  can  beat  you!" 

Larry  Glass  nudged  his  employer  open 
ly,  and  seemed  on  the  verge  of  hysteria. 
"Let  him  go,"  said  he.  "Let  him  go; 
he's  funny." 

Speed  addressed  Helen,  with  a  mag 
nanimous  smile: 

"Suppose  we  allow  Frez  to  sing  this 
foot-race?  We'U  pull  it  off  in  the 
treble  cleff." 


"Oh,  I  mean  it!"  maintained  the 
tenor,  stubbornly.  "I  don't  want  to 
run  Skinner,  the  cook,  but  111  run  you 
to  see  who  does  meet  him." 

Speed  shrugged  his  shoulders  indul 
gently. 

"I'm  afraid  you're  a  little  over 
weight." 

'Til  train  down." 

"Perhaps  if  you  wait  until  I  beat 
this  cook,  I'll  take  you  on." 

Glass  broke  out,  in  husky  indignation: 
"Sure!  Get  a  rep,  Cull,  get  a  rep!" 
Then  to  his  employer :  ' '  Come  on,  Wally, 
you've  got  to  warm  up."  He  mounted 
the  steps  heavily  with  his  protege. 

When  they  had  gone,  Miss  Blake 
clapped  her  hands. 

"I'm  so  excited!"  she  exclaimed.  "You 
see,  it's  all  my  doings!  Oh,  how  I 
adore  athletes!" 

"Most  young  girls  do,"  Fresno  smiled, 
sourly.  "My  taste  runs  more  to  music." 
After  a  moment's  meditation,  he  ob 
served:  "Speed  doesn't  look  like  a 
sprinter  to  me.  I — I'll  wager  he  can't 
do  a  hundred  yards  in  fifteen-two." 
72 


"' Fifteen-two'  is  cribbage,"  said  Miss 
Blake. 

"Fifteen  and  two -fifths  seconds  is 
what  I  mean." 

"Is  that  fast?" 

Fresno  smiled,  indulgently  this  time. 
"Jean's  friend  Covington  can  go  the  dis 
tance  in  nine  and  four  -  fifths  seconds. 
He's  a  real  sprinter.  I  think  this  fellow 
is  a  joke." 

"Indeed  he  is  not!  If  Mr.  Covington 
can  run  as  fast  as  that,  Mr.  Speed  can 
run  faster.  He  told  me  so." 

"Oh!"  Fresno  looked  at  her  curious 
ly.  "The  world's  record  is  nine  and 
three- fifths;  that's  the  limit  of  human 
endurance." 

"I  hope  he  doesn't  injure  himself," 
breathed  the  girl,  and  the  tenor  wan 
dered  away,  disgusted  beyond  measure. 
When  he  was  out  of  hearing,  he  re 
marked,  aloud: 

"I'll  bet  he  runs  so  slow  we'll  have  to 
wind  a  stop-watch  on  him.  Anyhow,  I 
think  I'll  find  out  something  more  about 
this  race." 

Once  in  his  room,  Mr.  J.  Wallingford 
73 


Speed  made  a  search  for  writing  ma 
terials,  while  Larry  Glass  overhauled 
a  trunk  filled  with  athletic  clothing  of 
various  descriptions.  There  were  run 
ning-suits,  rowing  -  suits,  baseball  and 
football  suits,  sweaters,  jerseys,  and  bath 
robes — all  of  which  were  new  and  un 
stained.  At  the  bottom  Glass  discov 
ered  a  box  full  of  bronze  and  near-gold 
emblems. 

"Here's  your  medals,"  said  he. 

"Good!     I'll  wear  them." 

"Nix!  You  can't  do  that.  Those 
gals  will  get  wise."  He  selected  one, 
and  read  on  the  reverse  side,  "Clerk  of 
the  course ' ' ;  another  was  engraved 
"Starter."  All  were  official  badges  of 
some  sort  or  other.  "You  always  were 
strong  on  the  'Reception  Committee' 
stuff.  There's  six  of  them,"  said  he. 

Speed  pointed  to  the  bureau. 

"Try  a  nail -file.  See  if  you  can't 
scratch  off  the  lettering.  How's  this?" 
He  read  what  he  had  written  for  the 
wire.  "  'Culver  Covington,  and  so  forth. 
Come  quick.  First  train.  Native  Son 
making  love  to  Jean.  —  Wally.'  Ten 
74 


words,  and  it  tells  the  whole  story.  I 
can  hardly  explain  why  I  want  him,  can 
I  ?  He  expects  to  stop  off  in  Omaha 
for  a  day  or  two,  but  he'll  be  under  way 
in  an  hour  after  he  gets  this.  I  hate 
to  spoil  his  little  visit,  but  he  can  take 
that  in  on  his  way  home.  Now  I'll 
ring  for  somebody,  and  have  this  taken 
over  to  the  station  by  the  first  wagon." 

"Say,  you  better  scratch  this  Fresno," 
said  Larry. 

"Why?" 

44 He's  hep  to  you." 

"Nonsense!" 

Glass  looked  up  at  a  sound,  to  dis 
cover  Mariedetta,  the  Mexican  maid, 
who  had  come  in  answer  to  Speed's  call. 

"In  the  doorway'"  the  trainer  said, 
under  his  breath.  "Pipe  the  Cuban 
Queen!" 

"You  call?"  inquired  Mariedetta  of 
the  younger  man. 

"Yes,  I  want  this  telegram  to  go  to 
the  depot  as  soon  as  possible." 

Mariedetta  took  the  message  and 
turned  silently,  but  as  she  went  she 
flashed  a  look  at  Glass  which  caused 

6  75 


31 


that  short-waisted  gentleman  to  wink  at 
his  companion. 

44 Some  frill!  Eh?  I'm  for  her!  She's 
strong  for  me,  too." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"We  talked  it  over.  I  gave  her  a 
little  kiss  to  keep  for  me." 

"Careful,  Larry!  She  may  have  a 
cowboy  sweetheart." 

Glass  grunted,  disparagingly. 

"Them  ginnys  is  jokes  to  me." 

As  Speed  talked  he  clad  himself  in 
his  silken  uniform,  donned  his  spiked 
shoes,  and  pinned  the  medals  upon  his 
chest. 

"How  do  I  look?"  he  queried. 

"Immense!  If  she  likes  athletes,  it's 
a  walk-away  for  you." 

"Then  give  me  the  baby -blue  bath 
robe  with  the  monogram.  We'll  go  out 
and  trot  around  a  little." 

But  his  complacency  received  a  shock 
as  he  stepped  out  upon  the  veranda.  Not 
only  Helen  Blake  awaited  him,  but  the 
other  girls  as  well,  while  out  in  front 
were  a  dozen  or  more  cowboys  whom 
Fresno  had  rallied. 

76 


"Coin'  to  take  a  little  run,  eh?" 
inquired  Stover.  "We  allowed  we'd  lay 
off  a  few  minutes  and  watch  you." 

"Thanks!" 

"Yes,"  Fresno  spoke  up.  "I  told 
the  boys  we'd  better  hold  a  stop-watch 
on  you  and  see  what  shape  you're  in." 

"A  stop-watch?"  said  Glass,  sharply. 

"Yes.     I  have  one." 

"Not  to-day,"  said  Speed's  trainer. 
"No!"  he  admonished,  as  his  prot6g6 
turned  upon  him.  "Some  other  time, 
mebbe.  You're  just  off  a  long  trip, 
and  I  can't  risk  gettin'  you  stove  up." 

"To-morrow,  perhaps,"  urged  Fresno. 

"I  wouldn't  promise." 

"Then  the  next  day.  I've  timed  lots  of 
men.  The  watch  is  correct." 

"Let's  see  it."  Glass  held  out  his 
hand. 

"Oh,  it's  a  good  watch.  It  cost  me  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars." 

As  Glass  reached  for  the  timepiece  an 
unfortunate  accident  occurred.  Speed 
struck  his  elbow,  and  the  watch  fell. 
Fresno  dove  for  it,  then  held  it  to  his 
ear  and  shook  it. 

77 


"You've  broken  it!"  he  cried,  accus 
ingly. 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry!  My  fault,"  Speed 
apologized. 

"If  it  was  your  fault,  maybe  you'll 
fix  it,"  suggested  the  tenor. 

"Gladly!"  Speed  turned  to  his  train 
er.  "Buy  a  new  alarm-clock  for  our 
little  friend."  He  stripped  off  his  bath 
robe,  and  handed  it  to  his  trainer.  "Is 
she  looking  at  me?"  he  whispered. 

"Both  eyes,  big  as  saucers." 

Speed  settled  his  spikes  into  the  dirt 
as  he  had  seen  other  sprinters  do,  set 
himself  for  an  instant,  then  loped  easily 
around  the  house  and  out  of  sight. 

To  the  cowboys  this  athletic  panoply 
was  vastly  impressive.  With  huge  satis 
faction  they  noticed  the  sleeveless  shirt, 
the  loose  running-trunks,  and,  above  all, 
the  generous  display  of  medals.  With  a 
wild  yell  of  delight  they  broke  out  upon  the 
trail  of  their  champion,  only  to  have  Glass 
thrust  his  corpulent  body  in  their  path. 
With  an  upflung  arm  he  stemmed  the  tide. 

"It's  no  use,  boys,"  he  cried,  "he's  a 
mile  away!" 

78 


CHAPTER  VI 

"HTHIS  doesn't   look   much   like    our 

1  storehouse,  does  it?"  Jean  paused 
in  her  task,  and,  seating  herself  upon 
the  summit  of  a  step-ladder,  scrutinized 
with  satisfaction  the  transformation 
wrought  by  a  myriad  of  college  flags, 
sofa  cushions,  colored  shawls,  and 
bunting. 

Roberta  Keap  dropped  her  hammer 
with  an  exclamation  of  pain. 

"Ouch!"  she  cried,  "I've  hurt  my 
thumb.  I  can't  hit  where  I  look  when 
people  are  talking." 

"Why  don't  you  pin  them  up?" 
queried  Miss  Blake,  sweetly.  "A  ham 
mer  is  so  dangerous." 

Mrs.   Keap  mumbled  something,   but 

her   enunciation   was   indistinct,    owing 

to  the  fact  that  her  thumb  was  in  her 

mouth.     Helen    finished    tying    a    bow 

79 


of  ribbon  upon  the  leg  of  a  stool,  patted 
it  into  proper  form,  then  said: 

"It  looks  cheerful." 

"And  restful/'  added  Jean. 

"I  think  a  gymnasium  should  be  rest 
ful,  above  all  things,"  agreed  Helen. 
"Most  of  them  are  so  bare  and  strenuous- 
looking  they  give  one  a  headache."  She 
spied  a  Whiteley  exerciser  fastened 
against  the  wall,  the  one  bit  of  gymnastic 
apparatus  in  the  room.  "Oh,  the  puller ! ' ' 
she  cried.  ' '  I  mustn't  forget  the  puller !" 
She  selected  a  pink  satin  ribbon,  and  tied 
a  chic  bow  upon  one  of  the  wooden 
handles.  "There!  We  can  let  him  in 
now." 

"Oh  dear!"  Jean  descended  from  her 
precarious  position  and  admitted,  "I'm 
tired  out." 

All  that  morning  the  three  had  labored, 
busily  transforming  the  store-room  into 
training  -  quarters  for  Speed,  who  had 
declared  that  such  things  were  not  only 
customary  but  necessary.  To  be  sure, 
it  adjoined  the  bunk-room,  where  the 
cowboys  slept,  and  there  were  no  gym 
nastic  appliances  to  give  it  character, 
80 


but  it  was  the  only  space  available,  and 
what  it  lacked  in  horizontal  bars,  dumb 
bells,  and  Indian  clubs  it  more  than 
compensated  for  by  a  cosey-corner,  a 
window-seat,  and  many  cushions.  Speed 
had  expressed  his  delight  with  the  idea, 
and  agreed  to  wait  for  a  glimpse  of  it. 

And  the  atmosphere  at  the  Flying 
Heart  Ranch  was  clearing.  The  gloom 
of  the  cowboys  had  given  way  to  a  grow 
ing  excitement,  a  part  of  which  com 
municated  itself  to  the  occupants  of  the 
house.  The  lassitude  of  previous  days 
was  gone,  the  monotony  had  disap 
peared,  and  Miss  Chapin  had  cause  to 
rejoice  at  the  presence  of  her  latest  guest, 
for  Speed  was  like  a  tonic.  He  was 
everywhere,  he  inspired  them  all,  laugh 
ter  followed  in  his  wake.  Even  in  the 
bunk-house  the  cowboys  retailed  his 
extravagant  stories  with  delight.  The 
Flying  Heart  had  come  into  its  own  at 
last;  the  Centipede,  most  scorned  and 
hated  of  rivals,  was  due  for  lasting  de 
feat.  Even  Cloudy,  the  Indian,  relaxed 
and  spoke  at  rare  intervals,  while  Willie 
worked  about  the  place  gleefully,  singing 
Si 


snatches  of  Sam  Bass  in  a  tuneless 
falsetto.  Carara  had  come  back  from 
the  Centipede  with  news  that  gladdened 
the  hearts  of  his  hearers :  not  only  would 
that  despicable  outfit  consent  to  run  a 
foot-race,  but  they  clamored  for  it. 
They  did  not  dicker  over  details  nor 
haggle  about  terms,  but  consented  to 
put  up  the  phonograph  again,  and  all 
the  money  at  their  disposal  as  well.  The 
cook  was  in  training. 

Of  all  the  denizens  of  the  Flying 
Heart  but  two  failed  to  enter  fully  into 
the  spirit  of  the  thing.  Berkeley  Fresno 
looked  on  with  a  cynicism  which  he  was 
too  wise  to  display  before  Miss  Blake. 
Seeing  the  lady  of  his  dreams  monopolized 
by  a  rival,  however,  inspired  him  to 
sundry  activities,  and  he  spent  much  of 
his  time  among  the  cowboys,  whom  he 
found  profitable  to  the  point  of  mystery. 

Mrs.  Keap,  the  youthful  chaperon, 
seemed  likewise  mastered  by  some  pri 
vate  trouble,  and  puzzled  her  compan 
ions  vaguely.  Helen  reported  that  she 
did  not  sleep,  and  once  Jean  found  her 
crying  softly.  She  seemed,  moreover,  to 
82 


be  apprehensive,  in  a  tremulous,  reason 
less  way;  but  when  with  friendly  sym 
pathy  they  brought  the  subject  up,  she 
dismissed  it.  In  spite  of  secret  tears,  she 
had  lent  willing  hands  to  the  decoration 
of  the  gymnasium,  and  now  nursed  her 
swollen  thumb  with  surprising  good 
nature. 

"Shall  we  let  them  in?"  she  inquired. 
"We  have  done  all  we  can." 

"Yes;  we  have  finished." 

In  a  flutter  of  anticipation  Jean  and 
Helen  put  the  final  touches  to  their  task, 
while  Mrs.  Keap  stepped  to  the  door  and 
called  Speed. 

He  came  at  once,  followed  by  Larry 
Glass,  who,  upon  grasping  the  scheme  of 
decoration,  smote  his  brow  and  balanced 
dizzily  upon  his  heels.  Speed  was  lost 
in  admiration. 

"Its  wonderful!"  ejaculated  the 
young  athlete.  "Those  college  flags 
give  it  just  the  right  touch.  And  see 
the  cosey-corner!" 

Glass  regained  his  voice  sufficiently  to 
murmur,  sarcastically,  "Say,  ain't  this  a 
swell-looking  drum?" 
83 


"We've  used  every  bit  of  bunting  on 
the  ranch,"  said  Jean. 

"See  the  Mexican  shawls!"  Mrs. 
Keap  added. 

"And  look,"  cried  Miss  Blake,  "I 
brought  you  my  prayer-rug!"  She  dis 
played  a  small  Persian  rug,  worn  and 
faded,  evidently  a  thing  of  great  age,  at 
which  Speed  uttered  an  exclamation.  ' '  I 
always  carry  it  with  me,  and  put  it  in 
front  of  my  bed  wherever  I  happen  to  be." 

Berkeley  Fresno,  drawn  by  the  irre 
sistible  magnetism  of  Miss  Blake's  pres 
ence,  wandered  in  and  ran  his  eyes  over 
the  room. 

Speed  took  the  rug  and  examined  it 
curiously.  "It's  an  old-timer,  isn't  it? 
Must  be  one  of  the  first  settlers." 

"Yes.  It's  thousands  and  thousands 
of  years  old.  Father  picked  it  up  some 
where  in  Asia." 

"How  does  it  work?"  queried  Glass, 
feeling  of  it  gingerly. 

"It's  a  very  holy  thing,"  Helen  ex 
plained.  "The  Mohammedan  stands  on 
it  facing  the  East  and  cries  'Allah!'" 

"Alley!"  repeated  the  trainer. 
84 


-No.    Allah!'1 

"' Allah'  is  the  Mohammedan  divin 
ity,"  explained  Speed. 

4 'I've  got  you."  Glass  was  greatly 
interested. 

4 'Then  he  makes  hi  sprayer.  It  is  such 
a  sacred  thing  that  when  one's  feet  are 
on  it  no  harm  can  come  to  one." 

4 'Well,  what  df  you  think  of  that?" 
murmured  the  trainer. 

Fresno  laughed  pleasantly.  "It's  too 
bad  it  isn't  long  enough  to  run  this  foot 


race  on." 


"Do  you  believe  in  the  charm?"  in 
quired  Speed  of  Helen. 

"Of  course  I  do,"  she  answered. 

He  laughed  sceptically,  whereupon 
Larry  Glass  broke  in  with  husky  accents : 

"Nix  on  the  comedy!  I  bet  it's  a 
wizard!" 

His  employer  gazed  warmly  at  the  owner 
of  the  priceless  treasure,  and,  taking  the 
rug  tenderly,  pressed  his  lips  to  it. 

Fresno  shook  his  head  in  disgust;  the 
brazen  methods  of  this  person  were  un 
bearable. 

"Why  all  the  colors?"  asked  he. 
85 


"You  can  sing  best  where  there  is  a 
piano.  I  can  train  best  under  the 
shadow  of  college  emblems.  I  am  a 
temperamental  athlete." 

"You'll  be  a  dead  athlete  if  you  don't 
beat  this  cook."  The  Californian  was 
angry. 

"Indeed!"  exclaimed  his  rival,  airily. 

"That's  what  I  remarked.  Did  they 
tell  you  what  happened  to  Humpy  Joe, 
your  predecessor?" 

"It  must  have  been  an  accident, 
judging  from  his  name."  At  which  Miss 
Blake  tittered.  She  was  growing  to  en 
joy  these  passages  at  arms ;  they  thrilled 
her  vaguely. 

"The  only  accident  connected  with  the 
affair  was  that  Still  BiU  and  Willie  didn't 
have  their  guns." 

Glass  started  nervously.  "Did  these 
rummies  want  to  shoot  him?"  he  in 
quired. 

"Certainly,"  said  Fresno.  "He  lost  a 
foot-race." 

In  spite  of  his  assurance,  J.  Walling- 
ford  Speed  felt  a  tremor  of  anxiety,  but 
he  laughed  it  off,  saying: 
86 


"One  would  think  a  foot-race  in  this 
country  was  a  pearl  necklace." 

"These  cowboys  ain't  good  losers, 
eh?"  queried  Glass. 

"It's  win  or  die  out  here." 

During  the  ensuing  pause  Mrs.  Keap 
took  occasion  to  call  Speed  aside. 
"I  have  something  to  contribute  to  the 
training  -  quarters  if  you  will  help  me 
bring  it  out,"  said  she. 

The  young  man  bowed .   '  *  Most  gladly. ' ' 

"We'll  be  back  in  a  little  while," 
the  chaperon  announced  to  the  others, 
and  a  moment  later,  when  she  and  Speed 
had  reached  the  veranda  of  the  house, 
she  paused. 

"I — I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  she 
began,  hesitatingly.  "It  was  just  an 


excuse." 


Wally  looked  at  her  with  concern,  for 
it  was  plain  that  she  was  deeply  troubled. 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  have  been  trying  to  get  a  word 
alone  with  you  ever  since  I  heard  about 
this  foot-race."  The  young  man  chilled 
with  apprehension  as  Mrs.  Keap  turned 
her  dark  eyes  upon  him  searchingly. 
87 


"Why  do  you  want  to  run?" 

"To  win  back  the  cowboys'  treasure. 
My  heart  is  touched,"  he  declared,  boldly. 
Mrs.  Keap  smiled. 

"I  believe  the  latter,  but  are  you  sure 
you  can  win?" 

' '  Abso-blooming-lutely . ' ' 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  a  sprinter." 

Speed  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Have  you  had  experience?" 

"Oceans  of  it!" 

Mrs.  Keap  mused  for  a  moment.  "Tell 
me,"  said  she,  finally,  "at  what  inter 
collegiate  game  did  you  run  last?" 

"I  didn't  run  last;  I  ran  first."  It 
was  impossible  to  resent  the  boy's  smile. 

"Then  at  what  game  did  you  last  run? 
I  hope  I'm  not  too  curious  ?" 

"Oh  no,  not  at  all!"  Speed  stammered. 

"Or,  if  it  is  easier,  at  what  college 
games  did  you  first  run?"  Mrs.  Keap 
was  laughing  openly  now. 

"Why  the  clear,  ringing,  rippling 
laughter?"  asked  the  young  man,  to 
cover  his  confusion. 

"Because  I  think  it  is  very  funny." 

"Oh,  you  do!"  Speed  took  refuge  be- 
88 


hind  an  attitude  of  unbending  dignity, 
but  the  young  widow  would  have  none 
of  it. 

"I  know  all  about  you,"  said  she. 
"You  are  a  very  wonderful  person,  of 
course;  you  are  a  delightful  fellow  at  a 
house-party,  and  a  most  suitable  in 
dividual  generally,  but  you  are  not  an 
athlete,  in  spite  of  those  beautiful  clothes 
in  your  trunk." 

"Who  told  you?" 

"Culver  Covington." 

"I  didn't  know  you  two  were  ac 
quainted." 

Mrs.  Keap  flushed.  "He  told  me  all 
about  you  long  ago.  You  wear  all  the 
athletic  clothes,  you  know  all  the  talk, 
you  have  tried  to  make  the  team  a 
dozen  times,  but  you  are  not  even  a 
substitute.  You  are  merely  the  Varsity 
cheer-leader.  Culver  calls  you  'the 
head-yeller."' 

"Columbus  has  discovered  our  con 
tinent!"  said  Speed.  "You  are  a  very 
wise  chaperon,  and  you  must  have  a 
corking  memory  for  names,  but  even  a 
head-yeller  is  better  than  a  glee-club 


quarter-back."  He  nodded  toward  the 
bunk-house,  whence  they  had  come. 
"You  haven't  told  anybody?" 

"Not  yet." 

"'Yet,'"  he  quoted.  "The  futurity 
implied  in  that  word  disturbs  me. 
Suppose  you  and  I  keep  it  for  a  little 
secret?  Secrets  are  very  delightful  at 
house-parties." 

4  Don't  you  consider  your  action  de 
ceitful?" 

"Not  at  all.  My  motto  is  'We  strive 
to  please." 

"Think  of  Helen." 

"That's  it;  I  can't  think  of  any 
thing  else!  She's  mad  about  athletics, 
and  I  had  to  do  something  to  stand  off 
this  weight-lifting  tenor." 

"Is  it  any  wonder  a  woman  distrusts 
every  man  she  meets?"  mused  the 
chaperon.  "Helen  might  forgive  you, 
I  couldn't." 

"Oh,  it's  not  that  bad.  I  know  what 
I'm  doing." 

"You  will  cause  these  cowboys  to  lose 
a  lot  more  money." 

"Not  at  all.  When  Culver  arrives—" 
90 


"Oh,  that  is  what  I  want  to  talk  over 
with  you,"  Mrs.  Keap  broke  in,  ner 
vously. 

"Then  it  isn't  about  the  foot-race? 
You  are  not  angry?"  Speed  brightened 
amazingly. 

"I'm  not  exactly  angry;  I'm  surprised 
and  grieved.  Of  course,  I  can't  forgive 
deceit — I  dare  say  I  am  more  particular 
than  most  people." 

"But  you  won't  tell?"  Mrs.  Keap  in 
dicated  in  some  subtle  manner  that  she 
was  not  above  making  terms,  whereupon 
her  companion  declared,  warmly:  "I'm 
yours  for  life!  Ask  me  for  my  watch, 
my  right  eye,  anything!  I'll  give  it  to 
you!" 

"I  assure  you  I  sha'n't  ask  anything 
so  important  as  that,  but  I  shall  ask  a 
favor." 

"Name  it  and  it  is  yours!"  Speed 
wrung  the  hand  she  offered. 

"And  perhaps  I  can  do  more  than 
keep  silent — although  I  don't  see  what 
good  it  will  do.  Perhaps  I  can  help 
your  suit." 

"Gracious  lady,  all  I  ask  is  that  you 
7  5T 


(« 
(i 


thrust  out  your  foot  and  trip  up  Berke 
ley  Fresno  whenever  he  starts  toward 
her.  Put  him  out  of  the  play,  and  I 
shall  be  the  happiest  man  in  the  world." 

"Agreed/' 

"Now,  in  what  way  can  I  serve  you?" 

Mrs.  Keap  became  embarrassed,  while 
the  same  shadowy  trouble  that  had  been 
observed  of  late  settled  upon  her. 

I  simply  hate  to  ask  it,"  she  said, 
but  I  suppose  I  must.  There  seems 
to  be  no  other  way  out  of  it."  Turning 
to  him  suddenly,  she  said,  in  a  low, 
intense  voice:  "I — I'm  in  trouble,  Mr. 
Speed,  such  dreadful  trouble!" 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry!"  he  answered  her, 
with  genuine  solicitude.  "You  needn't 
have  made  any  conditions.  I  would 
have  done  anything  I  could  for  you." 

"That's  very  kind,  for  I  don't  like 
our  air  of  conspiracy,  but" — Mrs.  Keap 
was  wringing  her  slender  hands — "I 
just  can't  tell  the  girls.  You — you  can 
help  me." 

Speed  allowed  her  time  to  grow  calm, 
wrhen  she  continued: 

"I — I  am  engaged  to  be  married." 
92 


4 'Felicitations!" 

"Not  at  all,"  said  the  young  widow, 
wretchedly.  "That  is  the  awful  part 
of  it.  I  am  engaged  to  two  men!"  She 
turned  her  brown  eyes  full  upon  him; 
they  were  strained  and  tragic. 

Speed  felt  himself  impelled  to  laugh 
immoderately,  but  instead  he  observed, 
in  a  tone  to  relieve  her  anxiety: 

"Nothing  unusual  in  that;  it  has  been 
done  before.  Even  I  have  been  prodigal 
with  my  affections.  What  can  I  do  to 
relieve  the  congestion?" 

"Please  don't  make  light  of  it.  It 
means  so  much  to  me.  I — I'm  in  love 
with  Jack  Chapin." 

"With  Jack!" 

"Yes.  When  I  came  here  I  thought  I 
cared  for  somebody  else.  Why,  I  want 
ed  to  come  here  just  because  I  knew  that 
— that  somebody  else  had  been  invited 
too,  and  we  could  be  together." 

"And  he  couldn't  come — " 

"Wait!    And  then,  when  I  got  here, 

I  met  Jack  Chapin.     That  was  less  than 

a  week  ago,  and  yet  in  that  short  time  I 

have  learned  that  he  is  the  only  man  I 

93 


can  ever  love — the  one  man  in  all  the 
world." 

''And  you  can't  accept  because  you 
have  a  previous  engagement.  I  see! 
Jove!  It's  quite  dramatic.  But  I  don't 
see  why  you  are  so  excited  ?  If  the  other 
chap  isn't  coming — " 

'  *  But  he  is !  That  is  what  makes  it  so 
dreadful!  If  those  two  men  should 
meet"  —  Mrs.  Keap  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands  and  shuddered — "there  would 
be  a  tragedy,  they  are  both  so  fright 
fully  jealous."  She  began  to  tremble, 
and  Speed  laid  a  comforting  hand  upon 
her  shoulder. 

"I  think  you  must  be  exciting  your 
self  unduly,"  said  he.  "Jean's  other 
friends  didn't  come.  There's  nobody 
due  now  but  Culver  Cov — " 

"That's  who  it  is!"  Roberta  raised 
her  pallid  face  as  the  young  man  fell 
back. 

"Culver!  Great  Scott!  Why,  he's 
engaged — " 

"What!" 

"Nothing!     I— I—"     Speed   paused, 
at  an  utter  loss  for  words. 
94 


"You  see,  he'll  discover  the  truth." 

"Does  he  know  you  are  here?" 

"No.  I  intended  to  surprise  him.  I 
was  jealous.  I  couldn't  bear  to  think 
of  his  being  here  with  other  girls — men 
are  so  deceitful !  That's  why  I  consented 
to  act  as  chaperon  to  Helen.  And  now  to 
think  that  I  should  have  met  my  fate  in 
Jack  Chapin!" 

"I  see.  You  want  me  to  break  the 
news  to  Culver." 

"No!  no!"  Mrs.  Keap  was  aghast. 
"If  he  even  suspected  the  truth  he'd  be 
come  a  raging  lion.  Oh,  I've  been  quite 
distracted  ever  since  Jack  left!" 

"Well,  what  am  I  to  do?  You  must 
have  some  part  laid  out  for  me?" 

"I  have.  A  desperate  situation  de 
mands  a  desperate  remedy.  I've  lost 
all  conscience.  That's  why  I  agreed  to 
protect  you  if  you'd  protect  me." 

"Go  ahead." 

"Culver  is  your  friend." 

"We're  closer  than  a  chord  in  G." 

"Then  you  must  wire  him — " 

"I  have—" 

" — not  to  come." 
95 


"What!"  J.  Wallingford  Speed  started 
as  if  a  wasp  had  stung  him. 

"You  must  wire  him  at  once  not  to 
come.  I  don't  care  what  excuse  you 
give,  but  stop  him.  Stop  him!" 

Speed  reached  for  a  pillar ;  he  felt  that 
the  porch  was  spinning  slowly  beneath 
his  feet. 

"Oh,  see  here,  now!    I  can't  do  that!" 

"You  promised!"  cried  Mrs.  Keap, 
fiercely.  "I  have  tried  to  think  of 
something  to  tell  him,  but  I'm  too 
frightened." 

"Yes,  but — but  I — want  him  here — 
for  this  foot-race."  Wally  swallowed 
bravely. 

"Foot-race!"  stormed  the  widow,  in 
dignantly.  "Would  you  allow  an  insig 
nificant  thing  like  a  foot-race  to  wreck  a 
human  life?  Two  human  lives ?  Three?'1 

"Can't  you—wire  him?" 

Mrs.  Keap  stamped  her  foot.  "If 
he  dreamed  I  was  here  he  would  hire  a 
special  train.  No!  It  must  come  from 
you.  You  are  his  best  friend." 

"What   can   I   say?"    demanded   the 
bewildered  Speed,  unhappily. 
96 


"I  don't  care  what  you  say,  I  don't 
care  what  you  do — only  do  something, 
and  do  it  quickly  before  he  has  time  to 
leave  Chicago."  Then  sensing  the  hesi 
tation  in  her  companion's  face:  "Or 
perhaps  you  prefer  to  have  Helen  know 
the  deceit  you  have  practiced  upon  her  ? 
And  I  fancy  these  cowboys  would  resent 
the  joke,  don't  you?  What  do  you 
think  would  happen  if  they  discovered 
their  champion  to  be  merely  a  cheer 
leader  with  a  trunkful  of  new  clothes, 
who  can't  do  a  single  out-door  sport — 
not  one!" 

' '  Wait !"  Speed  mopped  his  brow  w'ith 
a  red-and-blue  silk  handkerchief.  "I'll 
do  my  best." 

"Then  I  shall  do  my  part."  And 
Mrs.  Keap,  who  could  not  bear  deception, 
turned  and  went  indoors  while  J.  Walling- 
ford  Speed,  a  prey  to  sundry  misgivings, 
stumbled  down  the  steps,  his  head  in  a 
whirl. 


BERKELEY  FRESNO  was  devoting 
himself  to  Miss  Blake. 

"What  do  you  think  of  our  decora 
tions?"  she  inquired. 

"They  are  more  or  less  athletic,"  he 
declared.  "Was  it  Mr.  Speed's  idea?" 

1 '  Yes .     He  wanted  training-quarters . ' ' 

"It's  a  joke,  isn't  it?" 

"I  don't  think  so.  Mr.  Fresno,  why 
do  you  dislike  Mr.  Speed?" 

Fresno  bent  a  warm  glance  upon  the 
questioner.  "Don't  you  know?" 

Helen  shook  her  head  with  bland 
innocence.  "  Then  you  do  dislike 
him?" 

"No,  indeed!  /  like  him — he  makes 
me  laugh."  Helen  bridled  loyally. 
"Did  you  see  those  medals  he  wore  yes 
terday?"  the  young  man  queried. 

"Of  course,  and  I  thought  them 
beautiful." 

98 


"How  were  they  inscribed?  He 
wouldn't  let  me  examine  them/' 

"Naturally.  If  I  had  trophies  like 
that  I  would  guard  them  too." 

Fresno  nodded,  musingly.  "I  gave 
mine  away." 

"Oh,  are  you  an  athlete?" 

"No,  but  I  timed  a  foot-race  once. 
They  gave  me  a  beautiful  nearly-bronze 
emblem  so  that  I  could  get  into  the  in 
field." 

"And  did  you  win?" 

"No!  no!  I  didn't  run!  Don't  you 
understand?  I  was  an  official."  Fresno 
was  vexed  at  the  girl's  lack  of  perception. 
"I'm  not  an  athlete,  Miss  Blake.  I'm 
just  an  ordinary  sort  of  a  chap."  He  led 
her  to  a  seat,  while  Jean  enlisted  the 
aid  of  Larry  Glass  and  completed  the 
finishing  touches  to  the  decorations. 
"Athletics  don't  do  a  fellow  any  good 
after  he  leaves  college.  I'm  going  into 
business  this  fall.  Have  you  ever  been 
to  California?"  Miss  Blake  admitted 
that  she  had  never  been  so  far,  and 
Fresno  launched  himself  upon  a  glowing 
description  of  his  native  State ;  but  before 
99 


he  could  shape  the  conversation  to  a 
point  where  his  hearer  might  perchance 
express  a  desire  to  see  its  wonders,  Still 
Bill  Stover  thrust  his  head  cautiously 
through  the  door  to  the  bunk-house,  and 
allowed  an  admiring  eye  to  rove  over  the 
transformation. 

"Looks  like  a  bazaar!'*  he  exclaimed. 
"What's  the  idea?" 

"Trainin' -quarters,"   said   Glass. 

"Mr.  Speed  goin'  to  live  here?"  in 
quired  the  foreman,  bringing  the  re 
mainder  of  his  lanky  body  into  view. 

"No,  indeed,"  Jean  corrected,  "he 
will  merely  use  this  room  to  train  in." 

"How  do  you  train  in  a  room ?"  Stover 
asked  her. 

"Why,  you — just  train,  I  suppose." 
Miss  Chapin  turned  to  Glass.  "How 
does  a  person  train  in  a  room?" 

"Why,  he — just  trains,  that's  all.  A 
guy  can't  train  without  trainin'-quarters, 
can  he?" 

"We  thought  it  would  make  a  nice 
gymnasium,"  offered  Miss  Blake. 

"Looks  like  business."  Stover's  ad 
miration  was  keen.  "I  rode  over  to 
100 


Gallagher's  place  last  night  and  laid  our 
bets." 

''How  much  have  you  wagered?*' 
asked  Fresno. 

"More'n  we  can  afford  to  lose." 

"But  you  aren't  going  to  lose,"  Miss 
Blake  said,  enthusiastically. 

' '  I  got  Gallagher  to  play  some  records 
for  me." 

"Silas  on  Fifth  Avenue?" 

"Sure!  And  The  Holy  City,  too! 
Willie  stayed  out  by  the  barb-wire  fence ; 
he  didn't  dast  to  go  in.  When  I  come  out 
I  found  him  ready  to  cry.  That  desper 
ado  has  sure  got  the  heart  of  a  woman. 
I  reckon  he'd  commit  a  murder  for  that 
phonograph — he's  so  full  of  sentiment." 

Fresno  spoke  sympathetically. 

"It's  a  fortunate  thing  for  you  fellows 
that  Speed  came  when  he  did.  I'm 
anxious  for  him  to  beat  this  cook,  and 
I  hate  to  see  him  so  careless  with  his 
training." 

"Careless!"  cried  Helen. 

"What's  he  done?"  inquired  Stover. 

"Nothing,  so  far.  That's  the  trouble. 
He's  sure  he  can  win,  but"  —  Fresno 
101 


shook  his  head,  doubtfully — "there's 
such  a  thing  as  overconfidence.  No 
matter  how  good  a  man  may  be,  he 
should  take  care  of  himself." 

4  *  What's  wrong  with  his  trainin'?" 
demanded  Glass. 

"I  think  he  ought  to  have  more  rest. 
It's  too  noisy  around  the  house ;  he  can't 
get  enough  sleep." 

"Nor  anybody  else,"  agreed  Glass, 
meaningly;  "there's  too  much  singin'." 

"That's  funny,"  said  Stover.  "Music 
soothes  me,  no  matter  how  bad  it  is. 
Last  night  when  we  come  back  from  the 
Centipede  Mr.  Fresno  was  singin'  Dearie, 
but  I  dozed  right  off  in  the  middle  of  it. 
An'  it's  the  same  way  with  cattle.  They 
like  it.  It's  part  of  a  man's  duty  when 
he's  night-ridin'  a  herd  to  pizen  the  atmos 
phere  with  melody." 

"What  I  mean  to  say  is  this,"  Fresno 
hastened  to  explain.  "We  keep  late 
hours  at  the  house,  whereas  an  athlete 
ought  to  retire  early  and  arise  with  the 
sun.  I  thought  it  would  be  a  good 
scheme  to  have  Mr.  Speed  sleep  out  here 
until  the  race  is  over,  where  he  won't  be 

IO2 


disturbed.     Nine  o'clock  is  bedtime  for  a 
man  in  training." 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  that  is  at  all  neces 
sary,"  said  Miss  Blake  quickly. 

"We  can't  afford  to  spoil  his  chances," 
argued  the  young  man.  "There  is  too 
much  at  stake.  Am  I  right,  Mr.  Glass?" 

Now,  like  most  fat  men,  Lawrence 
Glass  was  fond  of  his  rest,  and  since  his 
arrival  at  the  Fying  Heart  his  sleeping- 
hours  had  been  shortened  considerably,  so 
for  once  he  agreed  with  the  Calif ornian. 

"No  question  about  it,"  said  he. 
"And  I'll  sleep  here  with  him  if  you'll 
put  a  couple  of  cots  in  the  place." 

"But  suppose  Mr.  Speed  won't  do  it?" 
questioned  Miss  Blake. 

"You  ask  him,  and  he  won't  refuse," 
said  Jean. 

"We  don't  want  to  see  him  defeated," 
urged  Helen's  other  suitor;  at  which  the 
girl  rose,  saying  doubtfully: 

"Of  cour  e  I'll  do  my  best,  if  you 
think  it's  really  important." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Stover  gratefully, 
while  Fresno  congratulated  himself  upon 
an  easy  victory. 

103 


"I'll  ask  him  at  once,  but  you  must 
come  along,  Jean,  and  you  too,  Mr. 
Glass." 

The  two  girls  took  Speed's  trainer 
with  them,  and  went  forth  in  search  of 
the  young  man. 

"It's  up  to  you  fellows  to  see  that  he 
gets  to  bed  early,"  said  Fresno,  when  he 
and  Stover  were  alone. 

"Leave  it  to  us.  And  as  for  gettin' 
up,  we  turn  out  at  daylight.  I  don't 
reckon  he  could  sleep  none  after  that  if 
he  tried."  Stover  pointed  to  the  striped 
elastic  coils  of  the  exerciser  against  the 
wall.  "I  didn't  want  to  speak  about  it 
while  they  was  here,"  said  he,  "but  one' 
of  them  young  ladies  lost  her  garters." 

"That's  not  a  pair  of  garters,  that's  a 
chest-weight." 

"Jest  wait  for  what?" 

' '  Chest-weight — chest-developer." 

"Oh!"  Stover  examined  the  device 
curiously,  "I  thought  a  chest-developer 
came  in  a  bottle." 

Fresno  explained  the  operation  of  the 
apparatus,  at  which  the  cow- man  remark 
ed,  admiringly: 

104 


"That  young  feller  is  all  right,  ain't 
he?" 

"Think  so?" 

"Sure!     Don't  you?" 

Fresno  explained  his  doubts  by  a 
crafty  lift  of  his  brows  and  a  shrug. 
"I  thought  so— at  first." 

Stover  wheeled  upon  him  abruptly. 
"What's  wrong?" 

"Oh,  nothing." 

After  a  pause  the  foreman  remarked, 
vaguely,  "He's  the  intercollegit  cham- 
peen  of  Yale." 

"Oh  no,  hardly  that,  or  I  would 
have  heard  of  him." 

"Ain't  he  no  champeen?" 

"Champion  of  the  running  broad  smile 
and  the  half-mile  talk  perhaps." 

"Ain't  he  a  foot-runner?" 

"Perhaps.  I've  never  seen  him  run. 
but  I  have  my  doubts." 

"Good  Lord!"  moaned  Stover,  weakly. 

"He  may  be  the  best  sprinter  in  the 
country,  mind  you,  but  I'll  lay  a  little 
bet  that  he  can't  run  a  hundred  yards 
without  sustenance.1' 

"Without  what?" 
105 


"Sustenance — something  to  eat." 

"Well,  we've  got  plenty  for  him  to 
eat/'  said  the  mystified  foreman. 

"You  don't  understand.  However, 
time  will  tell." 

"But  we  ain't  got  no  time.  We've 
made  this  race  'pay  or  play,'  a  week 
from  Saturday,  and  the  bets  are  down. 
We  was  afraid  the  Centipede  would  welsh 
when  they  seen  who  we  had,  so  we  framed 
it  that-away.  What's  to  be  done?" 

Again  Fresno  displayed  an  artistic  re 
straint  that  was  admirable.  "It's  none 
of  my  business,"  said  he,  with  a  careless 
shrug. 

"I— I  guess  I'll  tell  Willie  and  the 
boys,"  vouchsafed  Bill  apprehensively. 

"No!  no!  Don't  breathe  a  word 
I've  said  to  you.  He  may  be  a  cracker- 
jack,  and  I  wouldn't  do  him  an  injustice 
for  the  world.  All  the  same,  I  wish  he 
hadn't  broken  my  stop-watch." 

"  D'  you  think  he  broke  it  a-purpose  ?" 

"What  do  you  think?" 

Stover  mopped  the  sweat  from  his  brow. 

"Can't  we  time  him  with  a  ordinary 
watch?" 

106 


"Sure.  We  can  take  yours.  It  won't 
be  exact,  but — " 

"I  ain't  got  no  watch.  I  bet  mine 
last  night  at  the  Centipede.  Willie's 
got  one,  though." 

"Mind  you,  he  may  be  all  right/* 
Fresno  repeated,  reassuringly ;  then  hear 
ing  the  object  of  their  discussion  ap 
proaching  with  his  trainer,  the  two 
strolled  out  through  the  bunk-room, 
Stover  a  prey  to  a  new-born  suspicion, 
Fresno  musing  to  himself  that  diplomacy 
was  not  a  lost  art. 

"You're  a  fine  friend,  you  are!" 
Speed  exploded,  when  he  and  Glass  were 
inside  the  gymnasium.  "What  made 
you  say  'yes'  ?" 

"I  had  to." 

"Rot,  Larry!  You  played  into 
Fresno's  hands  deliberately!  Now  I've 
got  to  spend  my  evenings  in  bed  while 
he  sits  in  the  hammock  and  sings 
Dearie."  He  shook  his  head  gloomily. 
"Who  knows  what  may  happen?" 

"It  will  do  you  good  to  get  some 
sleep,  Wally." 

"But  I  don't  want  to  sleep!"  cried  the 
8  107 


exasperated  suitor.  "I  want  to  make 
love.  Do  you  think  I  came  all  the  way 
from  New  York  to  sleep  ?  I  can  do  that 
at  Yale." 

"Take  it  from  me,  Bo,  you've  got 
plenty  of  time  to  win  that  dame.  Eight 
hours  is  a  workin'  day  anywhere." 

"My  dear  fellow,  the  union  hours  for 
courting  don't  begin  until  9  P.M.  I've 
got  myself  into  a  fine  mess,  haven't  I? 
Just  when  Night  spreads  her  sable  mantle 
and  Dan  Cupid  strings  up  his  bow,  I  must 
forsake  my  lady-love  and  crawl  into  the 
hay.  Oh,  you're  a  good  trainer!" 

"You'd  better  can  some  of  this  love- 
talk  and  think  more  about  foot-racinV 

"It  can't  be  done!  Nine  o'clock!  The 
middle  of  the  afternoon.  It's  rather 
funny,  though,  isn't  it  ?"  Speed  was  not 
the  sort  to  cherish  even  a  real  grievance 
for  any  considerable  time.  "If  it  had 
happened  to  anybody  else  I'd  laugh  my 
self  sick." 

Glass  chuckled.     "The  whole  thing  is 

a  hit.     Look  at  this  joint,  for  instance." 

He  took  in  their  surroundings  with  a 

comprehensive  gesture.     "It  looks  about 

108 


as  much  like  a  gymnasium  as  I  look  like 
a  contortionist.  Why  don't  you  get  a 
Morris  chair  and  a  mandolin?" 

"There  are  two  reasons,"  said  Speed, 
facetiously.  "First,  it  takes  an  athlete 
to  get  out  of  a  Morris  chair;  and,  second, 
a  mandolin  has  proved  to  be  many  a 
young  man's  ruin." 

Glass  examined  the  bow  of  ribbon 
upon  the  lonesome  piece  of  exercising 
apparatus. 

"It  looks  like  the  trainin'-stable  for 
the  Colonial  Dames.  What  a  yelp  this 
place  would  be  to  Covington  or  any 
other  athlete." 

"It  is  not  an  athletic  gymnasium." 
Speed  smiled  as  he  lighted  a  cigarette. 
"It  is  a  romantic  gymnasium.  As 
Socrates  once  observed — " 

"Socrates!  I'm  hep  to  him,"  Glass 
interrupted,  quickly.  ' '  I  trained  a  Greek 
professor  once  and  got  wised  up  on  all 
that  stuff.  Socrates  was  the — the  Hem 
lock  Kid." 

"Exactly!  As  Socrates,  the  Hemlock 
Kid,  deftly  put  it,  'In  hoc  signature 
vintage' " 

109 


"  I  don't  get  you." 

"That  is  archaic  Scandinavian,  and, 
translated,  means,  'Love  cannot  thrive 
without  her  bower.'  " 

"No  answer  to  that  telegram  yet,  eh?" 

"Hardly  time." 

"Better  wire  Covington  again,  hadn't 
you?  Mebbe  he  didn't  get  it?" 

"I  promised  Mrs.  Keap  that  I  would, 
but  —  "  Speed  lost  himself  abruptly  in 
speculation,  for  he  did  not  know  exactly 
how  to  manage  this  unexpected  compli 
cation.  Of  one  thing  only  w^as  he  cer 
tain  :  it  would  require  some  thought. 

'  '  Say,  Wally,  suppose  Covington  don't 
come?" 

"Then  I  shall  sprain  my  ankle," 
said  the  other.  "Hello!  What  in  the 


Still  Bill  Stover  and  Willie  came  into 
the  room  carrying  an  armful  of  lumber. 
Behind  them  followed  Carara  with  a  huge 
wooden  tub,  and  Cloudy  rolling  a  kero 
sene  barrel. 

"Where  do  you  want  it,  gents?'* 
squired  the  foreman. 

"Where  do  we  want  what?" 
no 


"The  shower-bath." 

"Shower —  I  didn't  order  a  shower- 
bath  !" 

4 'No;  but  we  aim  to  make  it  as  pleas 
ant  for  you  as  we  can." 

"If  there  is  anything  I  abhor,  it's  a 
shower-bath !"  exclaimed  the  athlete. 

"You  just  got  to  have  one.  Mr. 
Fresno  said  all  this  gymnasium  lacked 
was  a  shower-bath,  a  pair  of  scales, 
and  a  bulletin -board.  He  said  you'd 
sure  need  a  bath  after  workin'  that  chest- 
developer.  We  ain't  got  no  scales,  nor 
no  board,  but  we'll  toggle  up  some 
sort  of  a  bath  for  you.  The  black 
smith's  makin'  a  squirter  to  go  on  the 
bar'l." 

"Very  well,  put  it  wherever  you  wish. 
I  sha'n't  use  it." 

"I  wouldn't  overlook  nothing  if  I  was 
you,"  said  Willie,  in  even  milder  tones 
than  Stover  had  used. 

"You  overwhelm  me  with  these  little 
attentions,"  retorted  Mr.  Speed. 

"Where  you  goin'  to  run  to-day  ?"  in 
quired  the  first  speaker. 

"I  don't  know.     Why?" 
in 


"We  thought  you  might  do  a  hundred 
yards  agin  time." 

"Nix!"  interposed  Glass,  hurriedly. 
"I  can't  let  him  overdo  at  the  start. 
Besides,  we  ain't  got  no  stop-watch." 

"I  got  a  reg'lar  watch,"  said  Willie, 
"and  I  can  catch  you  pretty  close. 
We'd  admire  to  see  you  travel  some,  Mr. 
Speed." 

But  Glass  vowed  that  he  was  in  charge 
of  his  protege's  health,  and  would  not 
permit  it.  Once  outside,  however,  he 
exclaimed:  "That's  more  of  Fresno's 
work,  Wally!  I  tell  you,  he's  Jerry. 
He'll  rib  them  pirates  to  clock  you,  and 
if  they  do — well,  you'd  better  keep  run- 
nin',  that's  all." 

"You  can  do  me  a  favor,"  said  Speed. 
"Buy  that  watch." 

"There's  other  watches  on  the  farm." 

"Buy  them  all,  and  bring  me  the  bill." 

Before  setting  out  on  his  daily  grind, 
Speed  announced  to  his  trainer  that  he 
had  decided  to  take  him  along  for 
company,  and  when  that  corpulent  gen 
tleman  rebelled  on  the  ground  that  the 
day  was  too  sultry,  his  employer  would 

112 


have  none  of  it,  so  together  they  trot 
ted  away  later  in  the  morning,  Speed  in 
his  silken  suit,  Glass  running  flat-footed 
and  with  great  effort.  But  once  safely 
hidden  from  view,  they  dropped  into  a 
walk,  and  selecting  a  favorable  resting- 
place,  paused.  Speed  lighted  a  cigarette, 
Glass  produced  a  deck  of  cards  from 
hts  pocket,  and  they  played  seven-up. 
Having  covered  five  miles  in  this  ex 
hausting  fashion,  they  returned  to  the 
ranch  in  time  for  luncheon.  Both  ate 
heartily,  for  the  exercise  had  agreed  with 
them. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

T  AWRENCE  GLASS  was  beginning 
jLj  to  like  New  Mexico.  Not  only  did  ||V 
it  afford  a  tinge  of  romance,  discern- 1" 
able  in  the  deep,  haunting  eyes  of 
Mariedetta,  the  maid,  but  it  offered 
an  opportunity  for  financial  ad 
vancement — as,  for  instance,  the  purchase 
of  Willie's  watch.  This  timepiece  cost  the 
trainer  twenty-one  dollars,  and  he  sold  it  to 
Speed  for  double  the  amount,  believing  in 
the  luck  of  even  numbers.  Nor  did  young 
Speed  allow  his  trainer's  efforts  to  cease 
here,  for  in  every  portable  timepiece  on  the 
ranch  he  recognized  a  menace,  and  not  un 
til  Lawrence  had  cornered  the  market  and 
the  wrhole  collection  was  safely  locked  in 
his  trunk  did  he  breathe  easily.  This 
required  two  days,  during  which  the 
young  people  at  the  ranch  enjoyed  them 
selves  thoroughly.  They  were  halcyon 
114 


days  for  the  Yale  man,  for  Fresno  was 
universally  agreeable,  and  seemed  resign 
ed  to  the  fact  that  Helen  should  prefer 
his  rival's  company  to  his  own.  Even 
when  Speed  had  regretfully  dragged  him 
self  off  to  bed  in  the  evening,  the  plump 
tenor  amused  Miss  Blake  by  sounding 
the  suitor's  praises  as  an  athlete,  re 
ports  of  which  pleased  Wally  intensely. 
Mr.  Fresno  was  a  patient  person,  who 
realized  fully  the  fact  that  a  fall  is  not 
painful  unless  sustained  from  a  consider 
able  height. 

As  for  Glass,  he  recounted  tales  of 
Mariedetta's  capitulation  to  his  employer, 
and  wheezed  merrily  over  the  discom 
fiture  of  the  Mexican  girl's  former  ad 
mirers. 

"She's  a  swell  little  dame,"  he  con 
fided  to  Speed  one  afternoon,  as  they 
lounged  luxuriously  in  the  shade  at  their 
customary  resting-place.  "Yes,  and  I'm 
aces  with  her,  too."  They  had  set  out 
for  their  daily  run,  and  were  now  con 
testing  for  the  seven-up  supremacy  of  the 
Catskill  Mountains.  Already  Glass  had 
been  declared  the  undisputed  champion  of 
"5 


the  Atlantic  Coast,  while  Speed  on  the 
day  previous  had  wrested  from  him  the 
championship  of  the  Mississippi  Valley. 

"But  Mariedetta  is  dark!"  said  the 
college  man,  as  he  cut  the  cards.  "She 
is  almost  a  mulatto." 

"Naw!  She's  no  dinge.  She's  an 
Aztec,  an'  them  Aztec's  is  swell  people. 
Say,  she  can  play  a  guitar  like  a 
barber!" 

"Miss  Blake  told  me  she  was  in  love 
with  Carara." 

Glass  grunted  contemptuously.  "I've 
got  it  on  that  insurrecto  four  ways. 
Why,  I'm  learning  to  talk  Spanish  my 
self.  If  he  gets  flossy,  I'll  cross  one  over 
his  bow."  The  trainer  made  a  vicious 
jab  at  an  imaginary  Mexican.  "He 
ain't  got  a  good  wallop  in  him." 

Like  all  New  Yorkers,  no  matter  what 
their  station,  Lawrence  cherished  a  pro 
vincial  contempt  for  such  people  as  are 
not  of  Manhattan.  While  he  was  wofully 
timid  in  the  presence  of  firearms,  and 
the  flash  of  steel  reduced  him  to  a  panic, 
he  was  a  past  master  at  the  "manly  art," 
and  carried  a  punch  in  which  he  reposed 
116 


unlimited  faith.  The  deference  with 
which  the  cowboys  treated  him,  their 
simple,  child-like  faith  in  his  every  utter 
ance,  combined  to  exaggerate  his  con 
tempt  for  them.  Even  Carara,  dis 
appointed  in  love,  treated  him  with  a 
smiling,  backward  sort  of  courtesy  which 
the  trainer  misconstructed  as  timidity. 

"I  thought  cowboys  was  tough  guys," 
continued  he,  "but  it's  a  mistake.  That 
little  Willie,  for  instance,  is  a  lamb. 
He  packs  that  Mauser  for  protection. 
He's  afraid  some  farmer  will  walk  up 
and  poke  his  eye  out  with  a  corn-cob. 
One  copper  with  a  night-stick  could 
stampede  the  whole  outfit.  But  they're 
all  right,  at  that,"  he  acknowledged, 
magnanimously.  "They're  a  nice  bunch 
of  fellers  when  you  know  how  to  take  'em. ' ' 

"The  flies  are  awful  to-day,"  Speed 
complained.  "They  bite  my  legs." 

"I'll  bring  out  a  bath  robe  to-morrow, 
and  we'll  hide  it  in  the  bushes.  I  wish 
there  was  some  place  to  keep  this  beer 
cool."  Glass  shifted  some  bottles  to  a 
point  where  the  sunlight  did  not  strike 
them. 

117 


"I'm  getting  tired  of  training,  Larry," 
acknowledged  the  younger  man,  with  a 
yawn.  "It  takes  so  much  time." 

Glass  shook  his  head  in  sympathy. 
"Seems  like  we'd  ought  to  hear  from 
Covington,"  said  he. 

"He's  on  his  way,  no  doubt.  Isn't  it 
time  to  go  back  to  the  ranch?" 

Glass  consulted  his  watch.  "No,  we 
ain't  done  but  three  miles.  Here  goes 
for  the  rubber." 

It  was  Berkeley  Fresno  who  retreated 
cautiously  from  the  shelter  of  a  thicket 
a  hundred  yards  up  the  arroyo  and 
started  briskly  homeward,  congratulat 
ing  himself  upon  the  impulse  that  had 
decided  him  to  follow  the  training  part 
ners  upon  their  daily  routine.  He  made 
directly  for  the  corral. 

"Which  I  don't  consider  there's  no 
consideration  comin'  to  him  whatever," 
said  Willie  that  evening.  "He  ain't 
acted  on  the  level." 

"Now,  see  here,"  objected  Stover,  "he 
may  be  just  what  he  claims  he  is. 
Simply  because  he  don't  go  skally-hootin' 
118 


around  in  the  hot  sun  ain't  no  sign  he 
cant  run." 

"What  about  them  empty  beer 
bottles?"  demanded  Willie.  "No  feller 
can  train  on  that  stuff.  I  went  out 
there  myself  and  seen  'em.  There  was  a 
dozen." 

4 '  Mebbe  Glass  drank  it.  What  I  claim 
is  this:  we  ain't  got  no  proof.  Fresno 
is  stuck  on  Miss  Blake,  and  he's  a 
knocker." 

"Then  let's  git  some  proof,  and  dam* 
quick." 

"Si,  Senores,"  agreed  Carara,  who  had 
been  an  interested  listener. 

"I  agree  with  you,  but  we  got  to  be 
careful—" 

Willie  grunted  with  disgust. 

" — we  can't  go  at  it  like  we  was  killin' 
snakes.  Mr.  Speed  is  a  guest  here." 

Again  the  little  gun  man  expressed 
his  opinion,  this  time  in  violet-tinted  pro 
fanity,  and  the  other  cowboys  joined  in. 

"All  the  same  he  is  a  guest,  and  no 
rough  work  goes.  I'm  in  charge  while 
Mr.  Chapin  is  away,  and  I'm  responsible." 

"Senor  Bill,"  Carara  ventured,  "the 
119 


fat  vaquero,  he  is  no  guest.  He  is  one 
of  us." 

"That's  right,"  seconded  Willie.  "He's 
told  us  all  along  that  Mr.  Speed  was  a 
Merc'ry-footed  wonder,  and  if  the  young 
feller  can't  run  he  had  ought  to  have 
told  us." 

Mr.  Cloudy  showed  his  understanding 
of  the  discussion  by  nodding  silently. 

"We'll  put  it  up  to  him  in  the  morn 
ing,"  said  Stover. 

"If  Mr.  Speed  cannot  r-r-run,  w'at  you 
do,  eh?"  questioned  the  Mexican. 

Nobody  answered.  Still  Bill  seemed 
at  a  loss  for  words,  Mr.  Cloudy  stared 
gloomily  into  space,  and  Willie  ground 
his  teeth. 

On  the  following  morning  Speed  sought 
a  secluded  nook  with  Helen,  but  no  sooner 
had  he  launched  himself  fairly  upon 
the  subject  uppermost  in  his  mind  than 
he  was  disturbed  by  a  delegation  of  cow 
boys,  consisting  of  the  original  four  wyho 
had  waited  upon  him  that  first  morning 
after  his  arrival.  They  came  forward 
with  grave  and  serious  mein,  requesting 
a  moment's  interview.  It  was  plain 

120 


there  was  something  of  more  than  or 
dinary  importance  upon  their  minds  from 
the  manner  in  which  Stover  spoke,  but 
when  Helen  quickly  volunteered  to  with 
draw,  Speed  checked  her. 

"Stay  where  you  are;  I  have  no  secrets 
from  you,"  said  he.  Then  noting  the 
troubled  face  of  the  foreman,  quoted 
impatiently : 

'"You  may  fire  when  ready,  Gridley.' ' 

Still  Bill  shifted  the  lump  in  his  cheek, 
and  cleared  his  throat  before  beginning 
formally. 

"Mr.  Speed,  while  we  honor  you  a 
heap  for  your  accomplishments,  and 
while  we  believe  in  you  as  a  man  and  a 
champeen,  we  kind  of  feel  that  it  might 
make  you  stretch  your  legs  some  if  you 
knew  just  exactly  what  this  foot-race 
means  to  the  Flying  Heart  outfit." 

"I  assured  you  that  the  Centipede 
cook  would  be  beaten,"  said  the  college 
man,  stiffly. 

"Isn't  Mr.  Speed's  word  sufficient ?" 
inquired  the  girl. 

Stover  bowed.  "It  had  sure  ought  to 
be,  and  we  thank  you  for  them  new 
121 


assurances.  You  see,  our  spiritual  on- 
rest  is  due  to  the  fact  that  Humpy 
Joe's  get-away  left  us  broke,  and  we 
banked  on  you  to  pull  us  even.  That 
first  experience  strained  our  credulity  to 
the  bustin'  point,  and — well,  in  words  of 
one  syllable,  we  come  from  Joplin." 

4 'Missouri,"  said  Willie. 

"My  dear  sirs,  I  can't  prove  that  you 
are  going  to  win  your  wagers  until  the 
day  of  the  race.  However,  if  you  are 
broke  to  start  with,  I  don't  see  how  you 
can  expect  to  lose  a  great  deal." 

"You  ain't  got  the  right  angle  on  the 
affair,"  Stover  explained.  "Outside  of 
the  onbearable  contumely  of  losin'  twice 
to  this  Centipede  outfit,  which  would 
be  bad  enough,  we  have  drawn  a  month's 
wages  in  advance,  and  we  have  put  it 
up.  Moreover,  I  have  bet  my  watch, 
which  was  presented  to  me  by  the 
officials  of  the  Santa  Fe  for  killin'  a 
pair  of  road-agents  when  I  was  Depity 
Sheriff." 

Miss  Blake  uttered  a  little  scream,  and 
Speed  regarded  the  lanky  speaker  with 
new  interest. 

122 


"It's  a  Waltham  movement,  solid  gold 
case,  eighteen  jewels,  and  engraved  with 
my  name." 

"No  wonder  you  prize  it,"  said  Wally. 

"I  bet  my  saddle,"  informed  Carara,  in 
his  slow,  soft  dialect.  ' '  Stamp'  leather  wit* 
silver  filagree.  It  is  more  dear  to  me 
than — well — I  love  it  ver'  much,  Senor!" 

"Seems  like  Willie  has  made  the 
extreme  sacrifice,"  Stover  followed  up. 
"While  all  our  boys  has  gone  the  limit, 
Willie  has  topped  'em  all:  he's  bet  his 
gun." 

"Indeed!     Is  it  a  good  weapon?" 

"It's  been  good  to  me,"  said  the  little 
man,  dryly.  "I  took  it  off  the  quiver 
ing  remains  of  a  Sheriff  in  Dodge  City, 
up  to  that  time  the  best  hip  shot  in 
Kansas." 

Speed  felt  a  cold  chill  steal  up  his 
spine,  while  Miss  Blake  went  pale  and 
laid  a  trembling  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"You  see  it  ain't  intrinsic  value  so 
much  as  association  and  sentiment  that 
leads  to  this  interview,"  Stover  con 
tinued.  "It  ain't  no  joke — we  don't 
joke  with  the  Centipede  —  and  we've 

9  123 


relied  on  you.  The  Mex  here  would 
do  murder  for  that  saddle,"  Carara  nod 
ded,  and  breathed  something  in  his  own 
tongue.  "I  have  parted  with  my  honor, 
and  Willie  is  gamblin'  just  as  high." 

"But  I  notice  Mr. — Willie  still  has  his 
revolver." 

"Sure  I  got  it!"  Willie  laughed,  abrupt 
ly.  "And  I  don't  give  it  up  till  we  lose, 
neither.  That's  the  understandin'." 
His  voice  was  surprisingly  harsh  for  one 
so  high-pitched.  He  looked  more  like 
a  professor  than  ever. 

"Willie  has  reasons  for  his  cautior 
which  we  respect,"  explained  the  spokes 
man. 

J.  Wallingford  Speed,  face  to  face  with 
these  serious-minded  gentlemen,  began 
to  reflect  that  this  foot-race  was  not  a 
thing  to  be  taken  too  lightly. 

"I  can't  understand,"  he  declared, 
with  a  touch  of  irritation,  "why  you 
should  risk  such  priceless  things  upon  a 
friendly  encounter." 

"Friendly!"  cried  Willie  and  Stover  in 
a  tone  that  made  their  listeners  gasp. 
"The  Centipede  and  the  Flying   Heart 
124 


is  just  as  friendly  as  a  pair  of  wild 
boars." 

"You  see,  it's  a  good  thing  we  wised 
you  up,"  added  the  latter. 

Carara  muttered  fiercely:  "Senor,  I 
worka  five  year'  for  that  saddle.  I  am 
a  good  gambler,  si,  si!  but  I  keel  some 
body  biff  ore  I  lose  it  to  the  Centipede." 

"And  is  that  Echo  Phonograph  worth 
all  this?"  inquired  Helen. 

"We  won  that  phonograph  at  risk  of 
life  and  limb,"  said  Willie,  doggedly, 
"from  the  Centipede—" 

" — and  twenty  other  outfits,  Senor." 

"It's  a  trophy,"  declared  the  fore 
man,  "and  so  long  as  it  ain't  where  it 
belongs,  the  Flying  Heart  is  in  disgrace." 

"Even  the  'Leven  X  treats  us  scorn 
ful!"  cried  the  smallest  of  the  trio  angrily. 
"We're  a  joke  to  the  whole  State." 

"I  know  just  how  these  gentlemen 
must  feel,"  declared  Miss  Blake,  tact 
fully,  at  which  Stover  bowed  with 
grateful  awkwardness. 

"And  it's  really  a  wonderful  in 
strument,"  said  he.  "I  don't  reckon 
there's  another  one  like  it  in  the  world, 
125 


leastways  in  these  parts.  You'd  ought 
to  hear  it — clear  as  a  bell — " 

"And sweet, "said Willie.  "God!  It's 
sure  sweet!" 

1 '  Why,  we  was  a  passel  of  savages  on  this 
ranch  till  we  got  it — no  sentiment,  no  music, 
no  nothin'  in  our  souls — except  profanity 
and  thirst.  Then  everything  changed." 
Stover  nodded  gravely.  '  *  We  got  gentle. 
That  music  mellered  us  up.  We  got  so 
we  was  as  full  of  brotherly  love  as  a 
basket  of  kittens.  Some  of  the  boys 
commenced  writin'  home;  Cloudy  begin 
to  pay  his  poker  debts.  You'd  scarcely 
hear  enough  profanity  to  make  things 
bearable.  I  tell  you  it  was  refined. 
It  got  so  that  when  a  man  came  steamin' 
in  after  a  week's  high  life  and  low  com 
pany  in  town,  his  wages  gone,  and  his 
stummick  burnin'  like  he'd  swallered 
all  his  cigar-butts,  it  didn't  make  no 
difference  if  he  found  a  herd  of  purple 
crocodiles  in  his  blankets,  or  the  bunk- 
house  walls  a-crawlin'  with  Gila  monsters. 
Little  things  like  that  wouldn't  phaze 
him!  He'd  switch  on  the  Echo  Phono 
graph  and  doze  off  like  a  babe  in  arms, 
126 


for  the  tender  notes  of  Madam-o-sella 
Melby  in  The  Holy  City  would  soothe  and 
comfort  him  like  the  carressin'  hand  of  a 
young  female  woman." 

"I  begin  to  feel  your  loss,"  said  Speed, 
gravely.  "Gentlemen,  I  can  only  assure 
you  I  shall  do  my  best." 

"Then  you  won't  take  no  chances?" 
inquired  Willie,  mildly. 

* 4  You  may  rely  upon  me  to  take  care  of 
myself." 

"Thank  you !"  The  delegation  moved 
away. 

"What  d'  you  think  of  him?"  inquired 
Stover  of  the  little  man  in  glasses,  when 
they  were  out  of  hearing. 

"I  think  he's  all  right,"  Willie  hesitated, 
"only  kind  of  crazy,  like  all  Eastern 
boys.  It  don't  seem  credible  that  no 
sane  man  would  dast  to  bluff  after  what 
we've  said.  He'd  be  flyin'  in  the  face  of 
Providence." 

But  this  comforting  conclusion  wav 
ered  again,  when  Berkeley  Fresno, 
who  had  awaited  their  report,  scoffed 
openly. 

"He  can't  run!  If  he  could  run  he'd 
127 


be  running.  I  tell  you,  he  can't  run  as 
fast  as  a  sheep  can  walk." 

"Serior,  you  see  those  beautiful 
medal  he  have?"  expostulated  Carara. 

"Sure,"  agreed  Willie.  "His  brisket 
was  covered  with  'em.  He  had  one  that 
hung  down  like  a  dewlap." 

"Phony!" 

"I've  killed  men  for  less,"  muttered 
the  stoop-shouldered  man. 

"Did  you  see  his  legs?"  Fresno  was 
bent  upon  convincing  his  hearers. 

"Couldn't  help  but  see  'em  in  that 
runnm'-suit." 

"Nice  and  soft  and  white,  weren't 
they?" 

"They  didn't  look  like  dark  meat," 
Stover  agreed,  reluctantly.  "But  you 
can't  go  nothin'  on  the  looks  of  a  feller's 
legs." 

"Well,  then,  take  his  wind.  A  runner 
always  has  good  lungs,  but  I'll  bet  if  you 
snapped  him  on  the  chest  with  a  rubber 
band  he'd  cough  himself  to  death." 

"Mebbe  he  ain't  in  good  shape  yet." 

Fresno  sneered.  "No,  and  he'll  never 
get  into  good  condition  with  those  girls 
128 


hanging  around  him  all  the  time.  Don't 
you  know  that  the  worst  thing  in  the 
world  for  an  athlete  is  to  talk  to  a 
woman?" 

''That's  the  worst  thing  in  the  world 
for  anybody,"  said  Willie,  with  cynicism. 
"But  how  can  we  stop  it  ?" 

"Make  him  eat  as  well  as  sleep  in  his 
training-quarters;  don't  let  him  spend 
any  time  whatever  in  female  company. 
Keep  your  eyes  on  him  night  and  day." 

Willie  spoke  his  mind  deliberately. 
"I'm  in  favor  of  that.  If  this  is  another 
Humpy  Joe  affair  I'm  a-goin'  to  put 
one  more  notch  in  my  gun-handle,  and 
it  looks  like  a  cub  bear  had  chawed  it 
already." 

"There  ain't  but  one  thing  to  do," 
Stover  announced,  firmly.  "We've  got 
to  put  it  up  to  Mr.  Glass  and  learn  the 
truth." 

"You'll  find  him  in  the  bunk-house," 
directed  Fresno.  ' '  I  think  I'll  trail  along 
and  hear  what  he  has  to  say." 


CHAPTER  IX 

had  gone  to  the  cowboys' 
sleeping-quarters  m  search  of  his 
employer,  and  was  upon  the  point  of 
leaving  when  the  delegation  filed  in. 
He  regarded  them  with  careless  con 
tempt,  and  removed  his  clay  pipe  to 
exclaim,  cheerfully: 

4 '  B — zoo  gents !  Where's  my  protege  ?" 

"I  don't  know.     Where  did  you  have 
it  last?" 

"I  mean  Speed,  my  trainin'  partner. 
That's  a  French  word." 

"Oh!     We  just  left  him." 

"Think  I'll  hunt  him  up." 

"Wait  a  minute."     Willie  came  for 
ward.     "Let's  talk." 

"All  right.     We'll  visit.     Let  her  go, 
professor." 

"You've  been  handlin'  him  for  quite 
a  spell,  haven't  you?" 
130 


"Sure!  It's  my  trainin'  that  put  him 
where  he  is.  Ask  him  if  it  ain't." 

"Then  he's  a  good  athlete,  is  he?" 

"Is  he  good?  Huh!"  Glass  grunted, 
expressively. 

"How  fast  can  he  do  a  hundred 
yards?" 

Larry  yawned  as  if  this  conversation 
bored  him. 

"Oh  —  about  —  eight  —  seconds." 

At  this  amazing  declaration  Willie 
paused,  as  if  to  thoroughly  digest  it. 

"Eight  seconds!"  repeated  the  little 
man  at  length. 

"Sure!  Depends  on  how  he  feels,  of 
course." 

Berkeley  Fresno,  in  the  corner,  snicker 
ed  audibly,  at  which  the  trainer  scowled 
at  him. 

"Think  he  can't  do  it,  eh?  Well, 
he's  there  four  ways  from  the  ace." 

Seeing  no  evidence  that  his  statement 
failed  to  carry  conviction  in  other  quar 
ters  at  least,  Glass  went  further.  It  was 
so  easy  to  string  these  simple-minded 
people  that  he  could  not  resist  the 
temptation. 


"  Didn't  you  never  hear  about  the 
killin'  he  made  at  Saratoga?"  he 
queried. 

Willie  started,  and  his  hand  crept 
slowly  backward  along  his  belt.  "  Kill- 
in'  !  Is  that  his  game  ?" 

1  'Now,  get  me  right,"  explained  the 
former  speaker.  "He  breaks  training 
and  goes  up  to  Saratoga  for  a  little  rest. 
While  he's  there  he  wins  eight  thousand 
dollars  playin'  diabolo." 

"Playin'  what?"  queried  Stover. 

"Diabolo!  He  backs  himself,  of 
course." 

Glass  took  an  imaginary  spool  from 
his  pocket,  spun  it  by  means  of  an 
imaginary  string,  then  sent  it  aloft  and 
pretended  to  catch  it  dexterously.  The 
cowboys  watched  him  with  grave,  un 
comprehending  eyes. 

"He  starts  with  a  case  five  and  runs 
it  up  to  eight  thousand  dollars,  that's 
all." 

Stover  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
astonishishment,  whereupon  the  New- 
Yorker  grew  even  bolder. 

"The  next  week  he  hops  over  to  Bar 
132 


Harbor  and  wins  the  Furturity  Ping-pong 
stakes  from  scratch.  That's  worth 
twenty  thousand  if  it's  worth  a  lead 
nickel.  Oh,  I  guess  he's  there,  all 
right!'*  He  searched  out  a  match  and 
relighted  his  pipe. 

"I  suppose  he's  a  great  croquet-player 
too,"  observed  Fresno,  whose  face  was 
purple. 

"Sure!"  Glass  winked  at  him,  glad 
to  see  that  the  Calif ornian  enjoyed  this 
kind  of  sport. 

"We  don't  care  nothin'  about  his 
skill  at  sleight-of-hand  tricks,"  said  the 
man  in  spectacles,  seriously.  "And  we 
wouldn't  hold  his  croquet  habits  agin 
him.  Some  men  drink,  some  gamble, 
some  do  worse ;  every  man  has  his  weak 
ness,  and  croquet  may  be  his.  What 
we  want  to  know  is  this :  can  he  win  our 
phonograph?" 

"Surest  thing  you  know!" 

"Then  you  vouch  for  him,  do  you?" 
Willie's  eyes  were  bent  upon  the  fat 
man  with  a  look  of  searching  gravity 
that  warned  Glass  not  to  temporize. 

"With  my  life!"  exclaimed  the  trainer. 


"You're  on!"  said  the  cowboy,  with 
unexpected  grimness. 

4 ' What  d'  you  mean?" 

But  before  the  other  could  explain, 
Berkeley  Fresno,  who  had  sunk  weakly 
into  a  chair  at  Larry's  extravagant 
praise  of  his  rival,  afforded  a  diversion. 
The  tenor  had  leaned  back,  convulsed 
with  enjoyment  when,  losing  his  balance, 
he  came  to  the  floor  with  a  crash.  The 
sudden  sound  brought  a  terrifying  result, 
for  with  a  startled  cry  the  undersized 
cow-man  leaped  as  if  touched  by  a  living 
flame.  Like  a  flash  of  light  he  whirled 
and  poised  on  his  toes,  his  long,  evil- 
looking  revolver  drawn  and  cocked,  his 
tense  face  vulturelike  and  fierce.  His  eyes 
glared  through  his  spectacles,  his  livid 
features  worked  as  if  at  the  sound  of  his 
own  death-call.  His  whole  frame  was 
tense ;  a  galvanic  current  had  transformed 
him.  His  weapon  darted  toward  the  spot 
whence  the  noise  had  come,  and  he  would 
have  fired  blindly  had  not  Stover  yelled: 

"Don't  shoot!" 

Willie  paused,  and  the  breath  crept 
audibly  into  his  lungs. 


4 'Who  done  that?"  he  asked,  harshly. 

Still  Bill  brought  his  lanky  frame  up 
above  the  level  of  the  table. 

4 'God  'Imighty!  don't  be  so  sudden, 
Willie!"  he  cried.  "It  was  a  acci 
dent." 

But  the  gun  man  seemed  unconvinced. 
With  cat-like  tread  he  stole  cautiously 
to  the  door,  and  stared  out  into  the  sun 
light;  then,  seeing  nobody  in  sight,  he 
replaced  his  weapon  in  its  resting-place 
and  sighed  with  relief. 

"I  thought  it  was  the  marshal  from 
Waco,"  he  said.  "He'll  never  git  me 
alive." 

Stover  addressed  himself  to  Fresno, 
who  had  gone  pale,  and  was  still  prostrate 
where  he  had  fallen. 

"Get  up,  Mr.  Berkeley,  but  don't 
make  no  more  moves  like  that  behind  a 
man's  back.  He  most  got  you." 

Fresno  arose  in  a  daze  and  mopped 
his  brow,  murmuring,  weakly,  "I — I 
didn't  mean  to." 

Carara  and  Mr.  Cloudy  came  out  from 
cover  whither  they  had  fled  at  Willie's 
first  movement. 

'35 


"I  dreamed  about  that  feller  agin 
last  night,"  apologized  the  little  man. 
"I'm  sort  of  nervous,  and  any  sudden 
noise  sets  me  off." 

As  for  Glass,  that  corpulent  individual 
had  disappeared  as  if  into  thin  air;  only 
a  stir  in  one  of  the  bunks  betrayed  his 
hiding-place.  At  the  first  sight  of 
Willie's  revolver  he  had  dived  for  a 
refuge  and  was  now  flattened  against  the 
wall,  a  pillow  pressed  over  his  head  to 
deaden  the  expected  report. 

"Hey!"  called  the  foreman,  but  Glass 
did  not  hear  him. 

"Seems  to  be  gun-shy/'  observed 
Willie,  gently. 

Stover  crossed  to  the  bunk  and  laid  a 
hand  upon  the  occupant,  at  which  a 
convulsion  ran  through  the  trainer's 
soft  body,  and  it  became  as  rigid  as  if 
locked  in  death.  ' '  Come  out,  Mr.  Glass, 
it's  all  over." 

Larry  muttered  in  a  stifled  voice, 
"Go  'way!" 

"It  was  a  mistake." 

He  opened  his  tight-shut  lids,  rolled 
over,  and  thrust  forth  a  round,  pallid 
136 


face.  He  saw  Stover  laughing,  and  be 
held  the  white  teeth  of  Carara,  the  Mexi 
can,  who  said: 

" Perhaps  the  Senor  is  sleepy!" 

Finding  himself  the  object  of  what 
seemed  to  him  a  particularly  senseless 
joke,  the  New-Yorker  crept  forth,  his 
face  suffused  with  anger.  Strangely 
enough,  he  still  retained  the  pipe  in  his 
ringers. 

"Say,  are  youse  guys  tryin'  to  kid 
me?"  he  demanded,  roughly.  Now  that 
no  firearm  was  in  sight,  he  was  master 
of  himself  again ;  and  seeing  the  cause  of 
his  undignified  alarm  leaning  against 
the  table,  he  stepped  toward  him 
threateningly.  "If  you  try  that  again, 
young  feller,  I'll  chip  you  on  the  jaw, 
and  give  you  a  long,  dreamy  nap."  He 
thrust  a  short,  square  fist  under  Willie's 
nose. 

That  scholarly  gentleman  straightened 
up,  and  edged  his  way  to  one  side,  Glass 
following  aggressively. 

"You're  a  husky,  ain't  you?"  said 
the  little  man,  squinting  up  at  the  red 
face  above  him. 


44 Am  I?"  Glass  snorted.  'Take  a 
good  look!"  With  deliberate  menace  he 
bumped  violently  into  the  other.  It 
was  with  difficulty  he  could  restrain 
himself  from  crushing  him. 

Stover  gasped  and  retreated,  while 
Carara  crossed  himself,  then  sidled  back 
of  a  bunk.  Mr.  Cloudy  stepped  silently 
out  through  the  open  door  and  held  his 
thumbs. 

"You  start  to  kid  me  and  I'll  wallop 
you—" 

4 '  One  moment  /' '  Willie  was  transfigured 
suddenly.  An  instant  since  he  had  been  a 
stoop-shouldered,  short-sighted,  insignifi 
cant  person,  more  gentle  mannered  than  a 
child,  but  in  a  flash  he  became  a  palpita 
ting  fury:  an  evil  atom  surcharged  with 
such  terrific  venom  that  his  antagonist 
drew  back  involuntarily.  "  Don't  you 
make  no  threat'nin'  moves  in  my  direc 
tion,  or  you'll  go  East  in  an  ice-bath!" 
He  was  panting  as  if  the  effort  to  hold 
himself  in  leash  was  almost  more  than 
he  could  stand. 

"G'wan!"  said  Glass,  thickly, 

"You're  deluded  with  the  idea  that 
13* 


the  Constitution  made  all  men  equal,  but 
it  didn't ;  it  was  Mr.  Colt."     With  a  move 
ment  quicker  than  light  the  speaker  drew 
his  gun  for  the  second  time,  and  buried 
half  the  barrel  in  the  New-Yorker's  ribs. 

"Look  out!"  Glass  barked  the  words, 
and  undertook  to  deflect  the  weapon 
with  his  hand. 

"Let  it  alone  or  it  '11  go  off!" 

Glass  dropped  his  hand  as  if  it  had 
been  burned,  and  stared  down  his  bulg 
ing  front  with  horrified,  fascinated  eyes. 

"Now,  listen.  We've  stood  for  you  as 
long  as  we  can.  You've  made  your  talk 
and  got  away  with  it,  but  from  now  on 
you're  working  for  us.  We've  framed  a 
foot-race,  and  put  up  our  panga  because 
you  said  you  had  a  champeen.  Now,  we 
ain't  sayin'  you  lied — 'cause  if  we  thought 
you  had,  I'd  gut-shoot  you  here,  now." 
Willie  paused,  while  Glass  licked  his  lips 
and  undertook  to  frame  a  reply.  The 
black  muzzle  of  the  weapon  hovering  near 
his  heart,  however,  stupefied  him.  Me 
chanically  he  thrust  the  stem  of  his  pipe 
between  his  lips  while  Willie  continued 
to  glare  at  him  balefully.  "You're  boss 
10  139 


is  a  guest,  but  you  ain't.  We  can  talk 
plain  to  you." 

"Y— yes,  of  course." 

"You  said  just  now  you'd  answer  for 
him  with  your  life.  Well,  we  aim  to 
make  you!  We  ain't  a-goin'  to  lose  this 
foot-race  under  no  circumstances  what 
ever,  so  we  give  you  complete  authority 
over  the  body,  health,  and  speed  of  Mr. 
Speed.  It's  up  to  you  to  make  him 
beat  that  cook." 

' '  S-s-suppose  he  gets  sick  or  sprains 
his  ankle?"  Glass  undertook  to  move 
his  body  from  in  front  of  the  weapon, 
but  it  followed  him  as  if  magnetized. 

"There  ain't  a-goin'  to  be  no  accidents 
or  excuses.  It's  pay  or  play,  money  at 
the  tape.  You're  his  trainer,  and  it's 
your  fault  if  he  ain't  fit  when  he  toes  the 
mark.  Understand?" 

Willie  lowered  the  muzzle  of  his  weap 
on,  and  fired  between  the  legs  of  Glass, 
who  leaped  into  the  air  with  all  the  grace 
of  a  gazelle.  It  was  due  to  no  conscious 
action  on  his  part  that  the  trainer  leaped ; 
his  muscles  were  stimulated  spasmodical 
ly,  and  propelled  him  from  the  floor. 
140 


At  the  same  time  his  wiU  was  so  utterly 
paralyzed  that  he  had  no  control  over  his 
movements;  he  did  not  even  hear  the 
yell  that  burst  from  his  throat  as  his 
lungs  contracted;  he  merely  knew  that 
he  was  in  the  supremest  peril,  and  that 
flight  was  futile.  Therefore  he  under 
took  to  steady  himself.  Every  tissue  of 
his  body  seemed  to  creep  and  crawl. 
The  flesh  inside  his  legs  was  quivering, 
the  close-cropped  hair  of  his  thick  neck 
rose  and  prickled,  and  his  capacious 
abdomen  throbbed  and  pulsated  like  a 
huge  bowl  of  jelly.  He  laid  his  hands 
upon  it  to  still  the  disturbance.  Then 
he  became  conscious  that  he  had  bit 
ten  his  pipe-stem  in  two  and  swallowed 
the  end.  He  felt  it  sticking  in  his 
throat. 

"Did  you  hear  what  I  said?"  demand 
ed  Willie,  in  a  voice  that  sounded  like 
the  sawing  of  a  meat  bone. 

Glass  opened  his  mouth,  and  when 
no  sound  issued,  nodded. 

"And  you  understand?" 

Again  the  trainer  bobbed  his  head. 
The  pipe -stem  had  cut  off  all  power  of 
141 


speech,  and  he  knew  himself  dumb  for 
life. 

"Then  I  guess  that's  all.  It's  up  to 
you."  Willie  replaced  his  gun,  and  the 
fat  man  threatened  to  fall.  "Come  on, 
boys!"  The  cowboys  filed  out  silently, 
but  on  the  threshold  Willie  paused  and 
darted  a  venomous  glance  at  his  enemy. 
"Don't  forget  what  I  said  about  Mr. 
Colt  and  the  equality  of  man." 

"Yes,  sir! — yes,  ma'am!"  ejaculated 
the  frightened  trainer,  nervously.  When 
they  were  gone  he  collapsed. 

"They  are  rather  severe,  aren't  they?" 
ventured  Fresno. 

"Severe!"  cried  the  unhappy  man. 
' '  Why,  Speed  can't—"  He  was  about  to 
explain  everything  when  the  memory  of 
Willie's  words  smote  him  like  a  blow. 
That  fiend  had  threatened  to  kill  him, 
LawTence  Glass,  without  preliminary 
if  it  became  evident  that  a  fraud  had 
been  practised.  Manifestly  this  was  no 
place  for  hysterical  confidences. '  Larry's 
mouth  closed  like  a  trap,  while  the  Cali- 
fornian  watched  him  intently.  At  length 
he  did  speak,  but  in  a  strangely  softened 
142 


tone,  and  at  utter  variance  with  his 
custom. 

"Say,  Mr.  Fresno!  Which  direction  is 
New  York?" 

"That  way."  Fresno  pointed  to  the 
east,  and  the  other  man  stared  longingly 
out  through  the  bunk-house  window. 

"It's  quite  a  walk,  ain't  it?" 

"Walk?"  Berkeley  laughed.  "It's 
two  or  three  thousand  miles!"  Glass 
sighed  heavily.  "Why  do  you  ask?" 

"Oh,  nothin'.  Jest  gettin'  homesick/' 
He  calmed  himself  with  an  effort,  en 
tered  the  gymnasium  as  if  in  search  of 
something,  and  then  set  forth  to  find 
Speed. 

That  ecstatic  young  gentleman  wrench 
ed  his  gaze  away  from  the  blue  eyes  of 
Miss  Blake  to  see  his  trainer  signalling 
him  from  afar. 

"What  is  it,  Lawrence?" 

"Got  to  see  you." 

"Presently." 

"Nix!    I  got  to  see  you  now!"    Glass's 

ruddy  face  was  blotched,  and  he  seemed 

to  rest  in  the  grip   of  some  blighting 

malady.     Beneath  his  arm  he  carried  a 

'43 


tight-rolled  bundle.  Sensing  something 
important  back  of  this  unusual  de 
meanor,  Speed  excused  himself  and  fol 
lowed  Larry,  who  did  not  trust  to 
speech  until  they  were  alone  in  the  gym 
nasium  with  the  doors  closed.  Then  he 
unrolled  the  bundle  he  carried,  spread  it 
upon  the  floor,  and  stepped  into  its  exact 
centre. 

1  'Are  you  standing  on  my  prayer-rug  ?" 
demanded  his  companion,  angrily. 

"I  am!  And  from  this  on  I'm  goin' 
to  make  it  work  itself  to  death.  She 
said  a  feller  couldn't  get  hurt  if  he  stood 
on  it  and  said  'Allah.'  Well,  I'm  goin' 
to  wear  it  out." 

"What's  wrong?" 

"Do  you  know  what's  goin'  to  happen 
to  me  if  Covington  don't  get  here  and 
beat  this  cook?" 

"HaprJen  to  you?" 

"Yes,  me!  These  outlaws  have  put 
it  up  to  me  to  win  this  bet  for  them." 

"Well,  Covington  can  beat  any 
body." 

"But  Covington  isn't  here  yet." 

"Not  yet,  but — "  The  young  man 
144  . 


smiled.  "You're  not  frightened,  are 
you?" 

4 'Scared  to  death,  that's  all,"  acknowl 
edged  the  other.  Then  when  his  employer 
laughed  openly,  he  broke  out  at  a  white- 
heat.  "Joke,  eh?  Well,  you'd  better 
have  a  good  laugh  while  you  can,  because 
Humpy  Joe's  finish  will  be  a  ten-course 
dinner  to  what  you'll  get  if  Covington 
misses  his  train." 

"How  easily  frightened  you  are'" 

"Yes?  Well,  any  time  people  start 
shooting  shots  I'm  too  big  for  this  earth. 
The  hole  in  a  gun  looks  as  big  as  a  gas- 
tank  to  me." 

"But  nobody  is  going  to  shoot  you!" 
exclaimed  the  mystified  college  man. 

"They  ain't,  hey?  I  missed  the 
Golden  Stairs  by  a  lip  not  half  an  hour 
ago.  I  got  a  pipe -stem  crossways  in 
my  gullet  now,  and  it  tickles."  He 
coughed  loudly,  then  shook  his  head. 
"No  use;  it  won't  come  up."  With 
feverish  intensity  he  told  of  his  narrow 
escape  from  destruction,  the  memory 
bringing  a  sweat  of  agony  to  his  brow. 
"And  the  worst  of  it  is,"  he  concluded, 
MS 


"I'm  'marked'  with  guns.     I've  always 
been  that  way." 

4 'Tut!  tut!  Don't  alarm  yourself. 
If  Covington  shouldn't  come,  the  race 
will  be  declared  off." 

"No  chance,"  announced  the  trainer, 
with  utter  conviction.  "These  thugs 
have  made  it  pay  or  play,  and  the  bets 
are  down." 

"You  know  I  can't  run." 
"If  he  don't  come,  you'll  have  to!" 
41  Absurd!     I  shall  be  indisposed." 
"If  you  mean  you'll  get  sick,  or  sprain 
an  ankle,  or  break  a  leg,  or  kill  yourself, 
guess    again.     I'm    responsible    for   you 
now.     Something    may   go   wrong   with 
me,   that  pipe-stem  is  liable  to  gimme 
a  cancer,  but  nothin'  is  goin'  to  happen 
to  you.     My  only  chance  to  make  a  live 
of  it  is  to  cough  up  that  clay,  and  get 
some  one  to  outrun  this  cook.     You're 
the  only  chance  I've  got,  if  Culver  don't 
show,  and  the  first  law  of  nature  ain't 
never  been  repealed." 
"Self-protection,  eh?" 
"Exactly."       Glass     coughed     thrice 
without  result,  stepped  off  the  prayer- 
146 


rug,  rolled  it  up  tightly ;  then,  hugging  it 
beneath  his  arm,  went  on:  "That  four- 
eyed  guy  slipped  me  a  whole  lot  of  feed- 
box  information.  Why,  he's  a  killer, 
Wally!  And  he's  got  a  cash-register  to 
tally  his  dead." 

"Notches  on  his  gun-handle,  I  sup 
pose?" 

"So  many  that  it  looks  like  his  wife 
had  used  it  to  hang  pictures  with.  I 
tell  you,  he's  the  most  deceitful  rummy 
I  ever  seen.  What's  more,  he's  got  the 
homicide  habit,  and  the  habit  has  got 
its  eye  on  me."  Glass  was  in  deadly 
earnest,  and  his  alarm  contrasted  so 
strongly  with  his  former  contemptuous 
attitude  toward  the  cowboys  that  Speed 
was  constrained  to  laugh  again. 

"It's  the  most  amusing  thing  I  ever 
heard  of." 

"Yes,"  said  the  trainer,  with  elaborate 
sarcasm,  "it  would  be  awful  funny  if  it 
wasn't  on  the  square."  He  moistened 
his  lip  nervously. 

"You  alarm  yourself  unnecessarily. 
We'll  hear  from  Culver  soon,  either  by 
wire  or  in  person.  He's  never  failed  me 
H7 


yet.  But  it  I  were  you,  Larry,  I'd  leave 
that  Mexican  girl  alone." 

"Mary?" 

"Yes.  Mariedetta.  Now,  there's 
something  to  be  afraid  of.  If  these 
cowboys  are  in  love  wyith  her  and  have 
their  eyes  on  you — " 

"Oh,  Willie  ain't  her  steady,  and  he's 
the  only  one  I'm  leary  of.  Mary's  beau 
is  that  Egyptian  with  the  funny  clothes, 
and  I  can  lick  any  guy  with  tight  pants." 

A  gentle  knock  sounded  at  the  door, 
at  which  Speed  called: 

"Come  in!" 

Sen  or  Aurelio  Maria  Carara  entered. 
He  wras  smoking  his  customary  corn- 
husk  cigarette,  but  his  dark  eyes  were 
grave  and  his  silken  mustachios  were 
pointed  to  the  fineness  of  a  bristle. 


CHAPTER  X 

unUENOS  dias,  Senor. ' '  Carara  bowed 
•"  politely  to  Speed. 

"Good-morning  again,"  said  Wally. 

Turning  to  the  trainer,  Carara  eyed 
him  from  top  to  toe,  removed  his  ciga 
rette,  and  flipped  the  ashes  daintily  from 
it;  then,  smiling  disdainfully,  said: 

"Buenos  dias,  Senor  Fat!" 

Glass  started.     "You  talkin'  to  me?" 

"Yes."  Carara  leaned  languidly 
against  the  wall,  took  a  match  from  his 
pocket,  and  dextrously  struck  it  between 
the  nails  of  his  thumb  and  finger.  He 
breathed  his  lungs  full  of  smoke  and 
exhaled  it  through  his  nose.  <4I  would 
have  spik  to  you  biffore,  but  the  Senor 
Fat  is" —  he  shrugged  his  shoulders — 
149 


"frighten'  so  bad  he  will  not  under- 
stan'.  So — I  come  back." 

" Who's  scared?"  said  Glass,  gruffly. 

Carara  turned  his  palm  outward,  in 
gentle  apology. 

"You  been  talk'  a  gret  deal  to  my 
Senorita — to  Mariedetta,  eh?" 

' '  Oh,  the  Cuban  Queen !' '  Glass  wink 
ed  openly  at  Speed.  ''Sure!  I  slip 
her  a  laugh  now  and  then." 

"She  is  not  Ciibana,  she  is  Mexicana" 
said  Carara,  politely. 

"Well,  what  d'you  think  of  that!  I 
thought  she  was  a  Cuban."  Glass  began 
to  chuckle. 

"Senor  Fat,"  broke  in  the  Mexican, 
sharply,  while  Larry  winced  at  the  dis 
tasteful  appellation,  "she  is  my  Seno 
rita!" 

"Is  she?  Well,  I  can't  help  it  if  she 
falls  for  me."  The  speaker  cast  an  ap 
preciative  glance  at  his  employer.  "And 
you  can  cut  out  that  'Senor  Fat, '  because 
it  don't  go — "  Then  he  gasped,  for 
Carara  slowly  drew  from  inside  his  shirt 
a  long,  thin-bladed  knife  bearing  marks 
of  recent  grinding,  and  his  black  eyes 
150 


yfe 


snapped.  His  face  had  become  suddenly 
convulsed,  while  his  voice  rang  with  the 
tone  of  chilled  metal.  Glass  retreated 
a  step,  a  shudder  ran  through  him,  and 
his  eyes  riveted  themselves  upon  the 
weapon  with  horrified  intensity. 

" Listen,  Pig!  If  you  spik  to  her 
again,  I  will  cut  you."  The  gaze  of  the 
Mexican  pierced  his  victim.  "I  will  not 
keel  you,  I  will  just — cut  you!" 

Speed,  who  had  sat  in  open-mouthed 
amazement  during  the  scene,  pinched 
himself.  Like  Larry,  he  could  not  re 
move  his  gaze  from  the  swarthy  man. 
He  pulled  himself  together  with  an  effort, 
however,  undertaking  to  divert  the  pres 
ent  trend  of  the  conversation. 

"W — where  will  you  cut  him?"  he 
asked,  pleasantly,  more  to  make  con 
versation  than  from  any  lingering 
question  as  to  the  precise  location. 

"Here."  Carara  turned  the  blade 
against  himself,  and  traced  a  cross  upon  his 
front,  whereupon  the  trainer  gurgled  and 
laid  protecting  hands  upon  his  protruding 
abdomen.  "You  spik  Spanish?" 
"No."  Glass  shook  his  head. 


*  *  But  you  understan'  w'at  I  try  to  say  ?" 

"Yes — oh  yes — I'm  hep  all  right." 

"And  the  Sefior  Fat  will  r-r-re- 
member?" 

"Sure!"  Glass  sighed  miserably,  and 
tearing  his  eyes  away  from  the  glittering 
blade,  rolled  them  toward  his  employer. 
"I  don't  want  her!  Mr.  Speed  knows 
I  don't  want  her!" 

Carara  bowed.  "And  the  Fat  Senor 
will  not  spik  wit'  her  again?" 

"No!" 

"Gracias,  Senor!     I  thank  you!" 

"You're  welcome!"  agreed  the  New 
Yorker,  with  repressed  feeling. 

"Adids!     Adios,  Senor  Speed!" 

"Good-bye!"  exclaimed  the  two  in 
chorus. 

Carara  returned  the  knife  to  its  hiding- 
place,  swept  the  floor  gracefully  with 
his  sombrero,  then  placing  the  spangled 
head-piece  at  an  exact  angle  upon  his 
raven  locks,  lounged  out,  his  silver  spurs 
tinkling  in  the  silence. 

Glass  took  a  deep  breath. 

"He  doesn't  mean  to  kill  you — just 
cut  you,"  said  Speed. 
152 


"I  got  it,"  declared  the  other,  fervent 
ly.  Again  he  laid  repressing  hands  upon 
his  bulging  front  and  looked  down  at  it 
tenderly.  "They've  all  got  it  in  for  my 
pad,  haven't  they?" 

"I  told  you  to  keep  away  from  that 
girl." 

"Humph!"  Glass  spoke  with  soulful 
conviction.  "Take  it  from  me,  Bo,  I'll 
walk  around  her  as  if  she  was  a  lake. 
Who'd  ever  think  that  chorus-man  was  a 
killer?" 

"Surely  you  don't  care  for  her 
seriously?" 

'  *  Not  now.  I — I  love  my  Cuban,  but ' ' — 
he  quivered  apprehensively — ''I'll  bet  that 
rummy  packs  a  'shiv'  in  every  pocket." 

From  outside  the  bunk-house  came  the 
low,  musical  notes  of  a  quail,  and  Glass 
puckered  his  lips  to  answer,  then  grew 
pale.  "That's  her,"  he  declared,  in  a 
panic.  "I've  got  a  date  with  her." 

"Are  you  going  to  keep  it?" 

"Not  for  a  nose-bag  full  of  gold 
nuggets!  Take  a  look,  Wally,  and  see 
what  she's  doing." 

Speed  did  as  directed.  "She's  waiting ," 
'53 


**Let  her  wait,"  breathed  the  trainer. 

"Here  comes  Stover  and  Willie." 

44 More  bad  news."  Glass  unrolled  his 
prayer-rug,  and  stepped  upon  it  hastily. 
"Say,  what's  that  word?  Quick!  You 
know!  The  password.  Quick!" 

"Allah!" 

"That's  her!"  The  fat  man  began  to 
mumble  thickly.  It  was  plain  that  his 
spirit  was  utterly  broken. 

But  this  call  was  prompted  purely  by 
solicitude,  it  seemed.  Willie  had  little 
to  say,  and  Stover,  ignoring  all  mention 
of  the  earlier  encounter  he  had  witnessed, 
exclaimed : 

"There's  been  some  queer  goin's-on 
'round  here,  Mr.  Speed.  Have  you  no 
ticed  'em?" 

"No.     What  sort?" 

"Well,  the  other  mornin'  I  discovered 
some  tracks  through  one  of  Miss  Jean's 
flower-beds." 

"Tracks!" 

"Sure!  Strange  tracks.  Man's 
tracks." 

"What  does  that  signify?" 

"We  ain't  altogether  certain.    Carara 


says  he  seen  a  stranger  hangin'  around 
night  before  last,  and  jest  now  we  found 
where  a  hoss  had  been  picketed  out  in 
the  ravine.  Looks  like  he'd  stood  there 
more'n  once." 

"Why,  this  is  decidedly  mysterious." 

"We  figured  we'd  ought  to  tell  you." 

"It  has  nothing  to  do  with  me." 

"I  ain't  sure.  It  looks  to  us  like  it's 
somebody  from  the  Centipede.  They're 
equal  to  any  devilment." 

Speed  showed  an  utter  lack  of  com 
prehension,  so  Willie  explained. 

4 '  Understand,  we've  made  this  race  pay 
or  play.  Mebbe  they  aim  to  cripple  you." 

"Me!"  Speed  started.  "Good 
Heavens!" 

"Oh,  they'd  do  it  quick  enough!  I 
wouldn't  put  it  past  'em  to  drop  a  .45 
through  your  winder  if  it  could  be  done 
safe." 

"Shoot  me,  you  mean?" 

"Allah!"  said  Glass,  devoutly  from 
his  corner. 

Stover  and  Willie  nodded.  "If  I  was 
you,  I'd  keep  the  lamp  between  me  and 
the  winder  every  night." 

H  '55 


"Why,  this  is  abominable!"  ex 
claimed  the  young  college  man,  stiffly. 
"I — I  can't  stand  for  this,  it's  getting 
too  serious." 

"  There  ain't  no  thin'  to  fear,"  said 
Willie,  soothingly.  "Remember,  I  told 
you  at  the  start  that  we'd  see  there 
wasn't  no  crooked  work  done.  Well,  I'm 
goin'  to  ride  herd  on  you,  constant,  Mr. 
Speed."  He  smiled  in  a  manner  to 
reassure.  "If  there's  any  shootin'  comes 
off,  I'll  be  in  on  it." 

"S — say,  what's  to  prevent  us  being 
murdered  when  we're  out  for  a  run?" 
queried  Glass. 

"Me!"  declared  the  little  man.  "I'll 
saddle  my  bronc'  an'  lope  along  with 
you.  We'll  keep  to  the  open  country." 

Instantly  Speed  saw  the  direful  con 
sequences  of  such  a  procedure,  and  sum 
moned  his  courage  to  say :  ' '  No.  It's  very 
kind  of  you,  but  I  shall  give  up  training." 

'What/'9 

"I  mean  training  on  the  road.  I — 
I'll  run  indoors." 

"Not  a  bit  like  it,"  declared  Stover. 
"You'll  get  your  daily  run  if  we  have 

156 


to  lay  off  all  the  punchers  on  the  place 
and  put  'em  on  as  a  body-guard." 

"But  I  don't  want  a  body-guard !" 
cried  the  athlete  desperately. 

"We  can't  let  you  get  hurt.  You're 
worth  too  much  to  us." 

"Larry  and  I  will  take  a  chance." 

"Not  for  mine!"  firmly  declared  the 
trainer.  "I  don't  need  no  mineral  in 
my  system.  I'm  for  the  house." 

"Then  I  shall  run  alone." 

"You're  game,"  said  Willie  admiring 
ly,  and  his  auditor  breathed  easier,  "but 
we  can't  allow  it." 

"I — I'd  rather  risk  my  life  than  put 
you  to  so  much  trouble." 

"It's  only  a  pleasure." 

"Nevertheless,  I  can't  allow  it.  I'll 
run  alone,  if  they  kill  me  for  it." 

"Oh,  they  won't  try  to  kill  you. 
They'll  probably  shoot  you  in  the  legs. 
That's  just  as  good,  and  it's  a  heap  easier 
to  get  away  with." 

Speed  felt  his  knee-caps  twitching. 

"I've  got  it!"  said  he  at  last.  "I'll  run 
at  night!" 

Stover  hesitated  thoughtfully. 


11 1  don't  reckon  you  could  do  yourself 
justice  that-away,  but  you  might  do 
your  trainin'  at  daylight.  The  Centi 
pede  goes  to  work  the  same  time  we  do, 
and  the  chances  is  your  assassin  won't 
miss  his  breakfast." 

"Good!     I— I'll  do  that!" 

"I  sure  admire  your  courage,  but  if 
you  see  anything  suspicious,  let  us  know. 
We'll  git  'em,"  said  Willie. 

"Thank  you." 

The  two  men  went  out,  whereupon 
Glass  chattered: 

'  *  W — what  did  I  tell  you  ?  It's  worse 'n 
suicide  to  stick  around  this  farm.  I'm 
going  to  blow." 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"New  York.     Let's  beat  it!" 

"Never!"  exclaimed  the  college  man, 
stubbornly.  We'll  hear  from  Covington 
before  long.  Besides,  I  can't  leave  until 
I  get  some  money  from  home." 

"Let's  walk." 

"Don't  be  a  fool!" 

"Then  I've  got  to  have  a  drink." 
Glass  started  for  the  living-quarters,  but 
at  the  door  ducked  quickly  out  of  sight. 

158 


"She's  there!"  he  whispered  tragically. 
"She  seen  me,  too!" 

Mariedetta  was  squatting  in  the  shade 
opposite,  her  eyes  fixed  stolidly  upon  the 
training-quarters. 

"Then  you've  got  to  lay  low  till  she 
gives  up,"  declared  Wally.  "We're  in 
trouble  enough  as  it  is." 

For  nearly  an  hour  the  partners  dis 
cussed  the  situation  while  the  Mexican 
maid  retained  her  position;  then,  when 
Glass  was  on  the  verge  of  making  a 
desperate  sally,  Cloudy  entered  silently. 
Although  this  had  been  an  unhappy 
morning  for  the  trainer,  here  at  least  was 
one  person  of  whom  he  had  no  fear,  and  his 
natural  optimism  being  again  to  the  fore, 
he  greeted  the  Indian  lightly. 

"Well,  how's  the  weather,  Cloudy?" 

"Mr.  Cloudy  to  you,"  said  the  other. 
Both  Glass  and  his  prot6g6  stared.  It 
was  the  first  word  the  Indian  had  uttered 
since  their  arrival.  Lawrence  winked  at 
his  companion. 

"All  right,  if  you  like  it  better.  How's 
the  weather,  Mister  Cloudy  ?"  He  snick 
ered  at  his  own  joke,  whereupon  the 
159 


aborigine  turned  upon  him  slowly,  and 
said,  in  perfect  English: 

"Your  humor  is  misplaced  with  me. 
Don't  forget,  Mr.  Glass,  that  the  one 
Yale  football  team  you  trained,  I 
dropped  a  goal  on  from  the  forty-five- 
yard  line." 

Glass  allowed  his  mouth  to  open  in 
amazement.  The  day  was  replete  with 
surprises. 

'"96!"  he  said,  while  the  light  of  un 
derstanding  came  over  him.  "You're 
Cloudy  -  but  -  the  -  Sun  -  Shines?" 

"Yes— Carlisle."  Cloudy  threw  back 
his  head,  and  pointed  with  dignity  to 
the  flag  of  his  Alma  Mater  hanging 
upon  the  wall. 

"By  Jove,  I  remember  that!"  ex 
claimed  Speed. 

4 'So  will  Yale  so  long  as  she  lives," 
predicted  the  Indian,  grimly.  ' '  You  crip 
pled  me  in  the  second  half" — he  stirred 
his  withered  leg — "but  I  dropped  it  on 
you;  and — I  have  not  forgotten."  He 
ground  the  last  sentence  between  his  teeth. 

"See    here,    Bo  — Mr.    Cloudy.      You 
don't  blame  us  for  that?" 
1 60 


Cloudy  grunted,  and  threw  a  yel 
low  envelope  on  the  floor  at  Speed's 
feet.  "There  is  something  for  you," 
said  he,  while  his  lips  curled.  He 
turned,  and  limped  silently  to  the 
door. 

"And  I  tried  to  kid  him!"  breathed 
Glass  with  disgust,  when  the  visitor  had 
gone.  "I  ain't  been  in  right  since  Gar- 
field  was  shot." 

"It's  a  telegram  from  Covington!" 
cried  Speed,  tearing  open  the  message. 
4 'At  last!" 

4 '  Thank  the  Lord !"  Glass  started  for 
ward  eagerly.  "When  '11  he  be  here? 
Quick!"  Then  he  paused.  J.  Walling- 
ford  Speed  had  gone  deathly  pale, 
and  was  reeling  slightly.  "What's 
wrong?" 

The  college  man  made  uncertainly  for 
his  bed,  murmuring  incoherently: 

"I— I'm  sick!  I'm  sick,  Larry!"  He 
fell  limply  at  full  length,  and  groaned, 
"Call  the  race  off!" 

Glass  snatched  the  missive  from  his 
employer's   nerveless   fingers,  and   read, 
with  bulging  eyes,  as  follows : 
161 


"  J.  WALLINGPORD  SPEBD, Flying  Heart  Ranck, 

Kidder,  New  Mexico: 

"  Don't  tip  off.  Am  in  jail  Omaha.  Looks 
like  ten  days. 

"  CULVER  COVINGTON." 

The  trainer  uttered  a  cry  like  that  of  a 
wounded  animal. 

"Call  it  off,  Larry/'  moaned  the  Hope 
of  the  Flying  Heart.  "I've  been 
poisoned!" 

" Poisoned,  eh?"  said  the  fat  man, 
tremulously.  "Poisoned!  Nix!  Not 
with  me!"  He  walked  firmly  across  the 
room,  flung  back  the  lid  of  Speed's 
athletic  trunk,  and  began  to  paw  through 
it  feverishly.  One  after  another  he 
selected  three  heavy  sweaters,  then  laid 
strong  hands  upon  his  protege  and  jerked 
him  to  his  feet.  "Sick,  eh?  Here,  get 
into  these!" 

"What  do  you  mean,  Lawrence?"  in 
quired  his  victim. 

"If  you  get  sick,  I  die."  Glass  opened 
the  first  sweater,  and  half -smothered  his 
protege  with  it.  "Hurry  up!  You're 
going  into  training!" 


CHAPTER  XI 

THAT  was  a  terrible  hour  for  J. 
Wallingford  Speed.  As  for  Larry, 
once  he  had  grasped  the  full  significance 
of  the  telegram,  he  became  a  different 
person.  Some  fierce  electric  charge 
wrought  a  chemical  alteration  in  his 
every  fibre;  he  became  a  domineering, 
iron-willed  autocrat,  obsessed  by  the 
one  idea  of  his  own  preservation,  and  not 
hesitating  to  use  physical  force  when 
force  became  necessary  to  lessen  his 
peril. 

Repeatedly  Speed  folded  his  arms  over 
his  stomach,  rocked  in  the  throes  of 
anguish,  and  wailed  that  he  was  perish 
ing  of  cramps;  the  trainer  only  snorted 
with  derision.  When  he  refused  to  don 
the  clothes  selected  for  him,  Glass  fell 
upon  him  like  a  raging  grizzly. 

4 'You  won't,  eh?    We'll  seel" 
163 


Then  Speed  took  refuge  in  anger,  but 
the  other  cried: 

"Never  mind  the  hysterics,  Bo.  You're 
going  to  run  off  some  blubber  to-day. " 

"But  I  have  to  go  riding!" 

"Not  a  chance!" 

"I  tell  you  I'll  run  when  I  come 
back,"  maintained  the  youth,  almost 
tearfully  beseeching.  "They're  waiting 
for  me." 

"Let  'em  gallop — you  can  run  along 
side." 

"With  all  these  sweaters?  I'd  have 
a  sunstroke." 

"It's  the  best  thing  for  you.  I  never 
thought  of  that." 

As  Glass  forced  his  protege  toward  the 
house,  the  other  young  people  appeared 
clad  for  their  excursion ;  their  horses  were 
tethered  to  the  porch.  And  it  \vas  an 
ideal  day  for  a  ride — warm,  bright,  and 
inviting.  Over  to  the  northward  the 
hills,  mysteriously  purple,  invited  ex 
ploration;  to  the  south  and  east  the 
golden  prairie  undulated  gently  into  a 
hazy  realm  of  infinite  possibilities;  the 
animals  themselves  turned  friendly  eyes 
164 


upon  their  riders,  champing  and  whinny 
ing  as  if  eager  to  bear  them  out  into 
the  distances. 

"We  are  ready!"  called  Jean  gayly. 

1 '  What  in  the  world — "  Helen  paused 
at  sight  of  the  swathed  figure.  "Are 
you  cold,  Mr.  Speed?" 

"Climb  on  your  horses  and  get  a  start," 
panted  the  burly  trainer;  "he's  goin'  to 
race  you  ten  miles." 

"I'm  going  to  do  nothing  of  the  sort. 
I'm  going  to — " 

But  Glass  jerked  him  violently,  crying: 

"And  no  talkin'  to  gals,  neither. 
You're  trainin'.  Now,  get  a  move!" 

Speed  halted  stubbornly. 

"Hit  her  up,  Wally!  G'wan,  now — 
faster!  No  loafing,  Bo,  or  I'll  wallop 
you!"  Nor  did  he  cease  until  they  both 
paused  from  exhaustion.  Even  then  he 
would  not  allow  his  charge  to  do  more 
than  regain  his  breath  before  urging  him 
onward. 

"See  here,"  Wally  stormed  at  last, 
"what's  the  use?  I  can't—" 

"What's  the  use?  That's  the  use!" 
Glass  pointed  to  the  north,  where  a  lone 
165 


horseman  was  watching  them  from  a 
knoll.  "D'you  know  who  that  is?" 

The  rider  was  small  and  stoop- 
shouldered. 

"Willie!" 

'That's  who." 

"He's  following  us!" 

With  knees  trembling  beneath  him 
Speed  jogged  feebly  on  down  the  road, 
Glass  puffing  at  his  heels. 

When,  after  covering  five  miles,  they 
finally  returned  to  the  Flying  Heart,  it 
was  with  difficulty  that  they  could  drag 
one  foot  after  another.  Wally  Speed 
was  drenched  with  perspiration,  and 
Glass  resembled  nothing  so  much  as  a 
steaming  pudding;  rivulets  of  sweat  ran 
down  his  neck,  his  face  was  purple,  his 
lips  swollen. 

"Y-you'll  have — to  run  alone — this 
afternoon,"  panted  the  tormentor. 

"This  afternoon?  Haven't  I  run 
enough  for — one  day?"  the  victim  plead 
ed.  "Glass,  old  man,  I — I'm  all  in,  I 
tell  you;  I'm  ready  to  die." 

"Got  to — fry  off  some  more — leaf-lard/' 
declared  the  trainer  with  vulgarity. 
166 


He  lumbered  into  the  cook-house,  radiat 
ing  heat  waves,  puffing  like  a  traction- 
engine,  while  his  companion  staggered 
to  the  gymnasium,  and  sank  into  a 
chair.  A  moment  later  he  appeared 
with  two  bottles  of  beer,  one  glued  to  his 
lips.  Both  were  evidently  ice  cold, 
•judging  from  the  fog  that  covered  them. 

Speed  rose  with  a  cry. 

"Gee!    That  looks  good!" 

But  the  other,  thrusting  him  aside 
without  removing  the  neck  of  the  bottle 
from  his  lips,  gurgled: 

' '  No  booze,  Wally !    You're  trainin' !" 

' '  But  I'm  thirsty !' '  shouted  the  athlete, 
laying  hands  upon  the  full  bottle,  and 
trying  to  wrench  it  free. 

1  *  Have  a  little  sense.  If  you're  thirsty, 
hit  the  sink."  Glass  still  maintained  his 
hold,  mumbling  indistinctly:  "Water's 
the  worst  thing  in  the  world.  Wait!  I'll 
get  you  some." 

He  stepped  into  the  bunk-room,  to  re 
turn  an  instant  later  with  a  cup  half  full. 
"Rinse  out  your  mouth,  and  don't  swal 
low  it  all." 

"All!  There  isn't  that  much.  Ugh! 
167 


It's  lukewarm.  I  want  a  bucket  of  ice- 
water — ice-water  /' ' 

"Nothing  doing!  I  won't  stand  to 
have  your  epictetus  chilled." 

"My  what?" 

"Never  mind  now.  Off  with  them 
clothes,  and  get  under  that  shower.  I 
I  guess  it  '11  feel  pretty  good  to-day." 

Speed  obeyed  instructions  sullenly, 
while  his  trainer,  reclining  in  the  cosey- 
corner,  uncorked  the  second  bottle. 
From  behind  the  blanket  curtains  where 
the  barrel  stood,  the  former  demanded: 

"What  did  you  mean  by  saying  I'd 
have  to  run  again  this  afternoon?" 

"Starts!"  said  Glass,  shortly. 

"Starts?" 

''Fast  work.  We  been  loafing  so  farj 
you  got  to  get  some  ginger." 

"Rats!     What's  the  use ?" 

"No  use  at  all.  You  couldn't  outrun 
a  steam-roller,  but  if  you  won't  duck  out, 
I've  got  to  do  my  best.  I'd  as  lief  die 
of  a  gunshot-wound  as  starve  to  death  in 
the  desert." 

"Do  you  suppose  we  could  run  away?" 

"Could  we!"  Glass  propped  himself 
168 


eagerly   upon    one    elbow.      "Leave    it 
to  me." 

"No!"  Wally  resumed  rubbing  him 
self  down.  * '  I  can't  leave  without  looking 
like  a  quitter.  Fresno  would  get  her  sure." 

"What's  the  difference  if  you're  a- 
straddle  of  a  cloud  with  a  gold  guitar  in 
your  lap?" 

"Oh,  they  won't  kill  us." 

"I  tell  you  these  cow-persons  is 
desp'rate.  If  you  stay  here  and  run 
that  race  next  Saturday,  she'll  tiptoe  up 
on  Sunday  and  put  a  rose  in  your  hand, 
sure.  I  can  see  her  now,  all  in  black. 
Take  it  from  me,  Wally,  we  ain't  goin'  to 
have  no  luck  in  this  thing." 

' '  My  dear  fellow,  the  simplest  way  out  of 
the  difficulty  is  for  me  to  injure  myself — " 

1 '  Here !' '  Glass  hopped  to  his  feet  and 
dove  through  the  blankets.  "None  of 
that!  Have  a  little  regard  for  me.  If 
you  go  lame  it's  my  curtain." 

All  that  day  the  trainer  stayed  close  to 
his  charge,  never  allowing  him  out  of  his 
sight,  and  when,  late  in  the  afternoon, 
Speed  rebelled  at  the  espionage,  Glass 
merely  shrugged  his  fat  shoulders. 
169 


"But  I  want  to  be  alone — with  her. 
Can't  you  see?" 

"I  can,  but  I  won't.  Go  as  far  as 
you  like.  I'll  close  my  eyes." 

"Or  I'll  close  them  for  you!"  The 
lad  scowled;  his  companion  laughed 
mirthlessly. 

"Don't  start  nothin'  like  that— I'd 
ruin  you.  Gals  is  bad  for  a  man  in 
trainin'  anyhow." 

"I  suppose  I'm  not  to  see  her — " 

"You  can  see  her,  but  I  want  to  hear 
what  you  say  to  her.  No  emotion  till 
after  this  race,  Wally." 

"You're  an  idiot!  This  whole  affair 
is  preposterous — ridiculous." 

"And  yet  it  don't  make  us  laugh,  does 
it?"  Glass  mocked. 

"If  these  cowboys  make  me  run  that 
race,  they'll  be  sorry — mark  my  words, 
they'll  be  sorry." 

Speed  lighted  a  cigarette  and  inhaled 
deeply,  but  only  once.  The  other  lunged 
at  him  with  a  cry  and  snatched  it. 
"Give  me  that  cigarette!" 

"I've  had  enough  of  this  foolishness," 
Wally  stormed.  "You  are  discharged!" 
170 


"I  wish  I  was/' 
"You  are!" 


"I  say  you  are  fired!"  Glass  stared 
at  him.  "Oh,  I  mean  it!  I  won't  be 
bullied." 

"Very  well."  Glass  rose  ponderously. 
"I'll  wise  up  that  queen  of  yours,  Mr. 
Speed." 

"You  aren't  going  to  talk  to  Miss 
Blake?  Wait!"  Speed  wilted  miser 
ably.  "She  mustn't  know.  I  —  I  hire 
you  over  again." 

"Suit  yourself." 

"You  see,  don't  you?  My  love  for 
Helen  is  the  only  serious  thing  I  ever 
experienced,"  said  the  boy.  "I  —  can't 
lose  her.  You've  got  to  help  me  out." 

And  so  it  was  agreed. 

That  evening,  when  the  clock  struck 
nine,  J.  Wallingford  Speed  was  ready 
and  willing  to  drag  himself  off  to  bed,  in 
spite  of  the  knowledge  that  Fresno  was 
waiting  to  take  his  place  in  the  hammock. 
He  was  racked  by  a  thousand  pains,  his 
muscles  were  sore,  his  back  lame.  He 
was  consumed  by  a  thirst  which  Glass 
12  171 


stoutly  refused  to  let  him  quench,  and 
possessed  by  a  fearful  longing  for  a 
smoke.  When  he  dozed  off,  regardless 
of  the  snores  from  the  bunk-house  ad 
joining,  Berkeley  Fresno's  musical  tenor 
was  sounding  in  his  ears.  And  Helen 
Blake  was  vaguely  surprised.  For  the  first 
time  in  their  acquaintance  Mr.  Speed 
had  yawned  openly  in  her  presence,  and 
she  wondered  if  he  were  tiring  of  her. 

It  seemed  to  Speed  that  he  had  barely 
closed  his  eyes  when  he  felt  a  rough  hand 
shaking  him,  and  heard  his  trainer's 
voice  calling,  in  a  half  -  whisper :  "Come 
on,  Cull!  Get  up!" 

When  he  turned  over  it  was  only  to  be 
shaken  into  complete  wakefulness. 

"Hurry  up,  it's  daylight!" 

"Where?" 

"Come,  now,  you  got  to  run  five  miles 
before  breakfast !" 

Speed  sat  up  with  a  groan.  "If  I 
run  five  miles,"  he  said,  "I  won't  want 
any  breakfast,"  and  laid  himself  down 
again  gratefully — he  was  very  sore — 
whereat  his  companion  fairly  dragged 
him  out  of  bed.  As  yet  the  room  was 
172 


black,  although  the  windows  were  grayed 
by  the  first  faint  streaks  of  dawn.  From 
the  adjoining  room  came  a  chorus  of 
distress:  snores  of  every  size,  volume, 
and  degree  of  intensity,  from  the  last 
harrowing  gasp  of  strangulation  to  the 
bold  trumpetings  of  a  bull  moose.  There 
were  long-drawn  sighs,  groans  of  torture, 
rumbling  blasts.  Speed  shuddered. 

"They  sound  like  a  troop  of  trained 
sea-lions,"  said  he. 

"Don't  wake  'em  up.  Here!"  Glass 
yawned  widely,  and  tossed  a  bundle  of 
sweaters  at  his  companion. 

"Ugh!  These  clothes  are  all  wet  and 
cold,  and — it  feels  like  blood!" 

"Nothin'  but  the  mornin'  dew.'* 

"It's  perspiration." 

"Well,  a  little  sweat  won't  hurt  you." 

' '  Nasty  word. ' '  Speed  yawned  in  turn . 
"Perspiration!  I  can't  wear  wet 
clothes,"  and  would  have  crept  back  into 
his  bed. 

This  time  Glass  deposited  him  upon  a 
stool  beside  the  table,  and  then  lighted 
a  candle,  by  the  sickly  glare  of  which  he 
selected  a  pair  of  running-shoes. 


"Why  didn't  you  leave  me  alone?" 
grumbled  the  younger  man.  "The  only 
pleasure  I  get  is  in  sleep — I  forget  things 
then." 

"Yes,"  retorted  the  former,  sarcas 
tically,  "and  you  also  seem  to  forget 
that  these  are  our  last  days  among  the 
living.  Saturday  the  big  thing  comes 
off." 

"Forget!  I  dreamed  about  it!"  The 
boy  sighed  heavily.  It  was  the  hour 
in  which  hope  reaches  its  lowest  ebb  and 
vitality  is  weakest.  He  was  very  cold 
and  very  miserable. 

"You  ain't  got  no  edge  on  me," 
the  other  acknowledged,  mournfully. 
"I'm  too  young  to  die,  and  that's  a  bet." 

Suddenly  the  pandemonium  in  the 
bunk-house  was  pierced  by  the  brazen 
jangle  of  an  alarm-clock,  whereat  a 
sleepy  voice  cried: 

"Cloudy,  kill  that  damn  clock!" 

The  Indian  uttered  some  indistin 
guishable  epithet,  and  the  next  instant 
there  came  a  crash  as  the  offending  time 
piece  was  hurled  violently  against  the 
wall. 


In  silence  Glass  shoved  his  unsteady 
victim  ahead  of  him  out  into  the  dawn. 
In  the  east  the  sun  was  rising  amid  a 
riotous  splendor.  At  any  other  time, 
under  any  other  conditions,  Speed  could 
not  have  restrained  his  admiration,  for 
the  whole  world  was  a  glorious  sparkling 
panoply  of  color.  The  tumbled  masses 
of  the  hills  were  blazing  at  their  crests, 
the  valleys  dark  and  cool.  In  the  east 
the  limb  of  the  sun  was  just  rearing  itself, 
the  air  was  heady  with  the  scent  of  grow 
ing  things,  and  so  clear  that  the  distances 
were  magically  shortened ;  a  certain  wild, 
intoxicating  exuberance  surcharged  the 
out-of-doors.  But  to  the  stiff  and  wear 
ied  Eastern  lad  it  was  all  cruelly  mocking. 
When  he  halted  listlessly  to  view  its 
beauties  he  was  goaded  forward,  ever  for 
ward,  faster  and  faster,  until  finally,  amid 
protests  and  sighs  and  complaining  joints, 
he  broke  into  a  heavy,  flat-footed  jog 
trot  that  jolted  the  artistic  sense  en 
tirely  out  of  him. 


CHAPTER  XII 

IT  was  usually  a  procedure  not  alone 
of  difficulty  but  of  diplomacy  as 
well,  to  rout  out  the  ranch-hands  of  the 
Flying  Heart  without  engendering  hostile 
relations  that  might  bear  fruit  during 
the  day.  This  morning  Still  Bill 
Stover  had  more  than  his  customary 
share  of  trouble,  for  they  seemed  pessi 
mistic. 

Carara,  for  instance,  breathed  a  Span 
ish  oath  as  he  combed  his  hair,  and 
when  the  foreman  inquired  the  reason, 
replied : 

"I  don'  sleep  good.  I  been  t'ink 
mebbe  I  lose  my  saddle  on  this  foot 
race." 

Cloudy,  whose  toilet  was  much  less 
intricate,  grunted  from  the  shadows: 

"I  thought  I  heard  that  phonograph 
all  night." 

176 


"It  was  the  Natif  Son  singin'  to  his 
gal,"  explained  one  of  the  hands.  "He's 
gettin'  on  my  nerves,  too.  If  he  wasn't 
a  friend  of  the  boss,  I'd  sure  take 
a  surcingle  and  abate  him  consider 
able." 

"Vat  you  t'ank?  I  dream'  Mr.  Speed 
is  ron  avay  an'  broke  his  leg,"  volun 
teered  Murphy,  the  Swede,  whose  name 
New  Mexico  had  shortened  from  Bjorth 
Kjelliser. 

"Run  away?" 

"Ya-as!  I  dream'  he's  out  for  little 
ron  ven  piece  of  noosepaper  blow  up  in 
his  face  an'  mak'  him  ron  avay,  yust  same 
as  horse.  He  snort  an'  yump,  an'  ron 
till  he  step  in  prairie-dog  hole  and  broke 
his  leg." 

"Strange!"  said  Willie. 

"What?" 

"My  rest  was  fitful  and  disturbed  and 
peopled  by  strange  fancies  a  whole  lot. 
I  dreamp'  he  throwed  the  race!" 

A  chorus  of  oaths  from  the  bunks. 

"What  did  you  do?"  inquired  Stover. 

"I  woke  up,  all  of  a  tremble,  with  a 
gun  in  each  hand." 

177 


"I  don't  take  no  stock  in  dreams 
whatever,"  said  some  one. 

1  'Well,  I'm  the  last  person  in  the 
world  to  be  superstitious,"  Still  Bill 
observed,  "but  I've  had  sim'lar  visions 
lately." 

"Maybe  it's  a  om-en." 

"What  is  a  om-en?"  Carara  inquired. 

"A  om-en,"  explained  Willie,  "is  a 
kind  of  a  nut.  Salted  om-ens  is  served 
at  swell  restarawnts  with  the  soup." 

In  the  midst  of  it  Joy,  the  cook,  ap 
peared  in  the  doorway,  and  spoke  in  his 
gentle,  ingratiating  tones: 

'  *  Morning,  gel'mum !     I  see  'im  again. ' ' 

"Who?" 

"No  savvy  who;  stlange  man!  I  go 
down  to  spling-house  for  bucket  water; 
see  'im  lide  'way.  Velly  stlange!" 

"I  bet  it's  Gallagher." 

*'Vat  you  tank  he  vants?"  queried 
Murphy. 

"He's  3ayin'  to  get  a  shot  at  our 
runner,"  declared  Stover,  while  Mr. 
Cloudy,  forgetting  his  Indian  reserve, 
explained  in  classic  English  his  own 
theory  of  the  nocturnal  visits. 
178 


"Do  you  remember  Humpy  Joe? 
Well,  they  didn't  cripple  him,  but  he  lost. 
I  don't  think  Gallagher  would  injure  Mr. 
Speed,  but — he  might — bribe  him." 

"Caramba!"  exclaimed  the  Mexican. 

"God  'Imighty!"  Willie  cried,  in 
shocked  accents. 

"I  believe  you're  right,  but" — Stover 
meditated  briefly  before  announcing  with 
determination — "we'll  do  a  little  night- 
ridin'  ourselves.  Willie,  you  watch  this 
young  feller  daytimes,  and  the  rest  of 
us  '11  take  turns  at  night.  An'  don't  lose 
sight  of  the  fat  man,  neither — he  might 
carry  notes.  If  you  don't  like  the  looks 
of  things — you  know  what  cards  to  draw." 

"Sixes,"  murmured  the  near-sighted 
cow-man.  "Don't  worry." 

"If  you  see  anything  suspicious,  burn 
it  up.  And  we'll  take  a  shot  at  anything 
we  see  movin'  after  9  P.M." 

Then  Berkeley  Fresno  came  hurriedly 
into  the  bunk-house  with  a  very  cheery 
"Good-morning!  I'm  glad  I  found  you 
up  and  doing,"  he  said  blithely.  "I 
thought  of  something  in  my  sleep."  It 
was  evident  that  the  speaker  had  been 
179 


in  more  than  ordinary  haste  to  make 
his  discovery  known,  for  underneath 
his  coat  he  still  wore  his  pajama  shirt, 
and  his  hair  was  unbrushed. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Your  man  Speed  isn't  taking  care  of 
himself." 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  said  Willie 
to  his  companions. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  in  justice  to  you 
boys  he  shouldn't  act  this  way,"  Fresno 
ran  on.  "Now,  for  instance,  the  water 
in  his  shower-bath  is  tepid." 

There  was  an  instant's  silence  before 
Stover  inquired,  with  ominous  restraint: 

"Who's  been  monkeying  with  it?" 

"It's  warm!" 

"Oh!"     It  was  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"A  man  can't  get  in  shape  taking 
warm  shower-baths.  Warm  water  weak 
ens  a  person." 

"Mebbe  you-all  will  listen  to  me  next 
time!"  again  cried  Willie,  triumphantly. 
"I  said  at  the  start  that  a  bath  never 
helped  nobody.  When  they're  hot  they 
saps  a  man's  courage,  and  when  they're 
cold  they—" 

1 80 


f '  No,  no !  You  don't  understand !  For 
an  athlete  the  bath  ought  to  be  cold — the 
colder  the  better.  It's  the  shock  that 
hardens  a  fellow." 

"Has  he  weakened  himself  much?" 
inquired  the  foreman. 

"Undoubtedly,  but—" 

"What?" 

"If  we  only  had  some  ice — " 

"We  got  ice;  plenty  of  it.  We  got  a 
load  from  the  railroad  yesterday." 

"Then  our  only  chance  to  save  him  is 
to  fill  the  barrel  quickly  We  must 
freeze  him,  and  freeze  him  well,  before  it  is 
too  late!  By  Jove!  I'm  glad  I  thought 
of  it!" 

Stover  turned  to  his  men.  "Four  of 
you-all  hustle  up  a  couple  hundred 
pounds  of  that  ice  pronto!  Crack  it,  an' 
fill  the  bar'l."  There  was  a  scramble 
for  the  door. 

"And  there's  something  else,  too," went 
on  Berkeley.  "He's  being  fed  wrong  for 
his  last  days  of  training.  The  idea  of  a 
man  eating  lamb-chops,  fried  eggs,  oat 
meal,  and  all  that  debilitating  stuff! 
Those  girls  overload  his  stomach.  Why, 
181 


he  ought  to  have  something  to  make 
him  strong — fierce!'* 

"Name  it,"  said  Willie,  shortly. 

"Something  like — like — bear  meat." 

'  *  We  ain't  got  no  bear. ' '  Willie  looked 
chagrined. 

"This  ain't  their  habitat,"  added 
Stover  apologetically. 

"Well,  he  ought  to  have  meat,  and  it 
ought  to  be  wild — raw,  if  possible." 

"There  ain't  nothin'  wilder  'n  a  long- 
horn.  We  can  git  him  a  steer." 

"You  are  sure  the  meat  isn't  too 
tender?" 

"It's  tougher  'n  a  night  in  jail." 

"There  ain't  no  sausage-mill  that  '11 
dent  it." 

"Good!  The  rarer  it  is  the  better. 
Some  raw  eggs  and  a  good  strong  vege 
table—" 

"Onions?" 

"Fine!     We'll  save  him  yet!" 

"We'll  get  the  grub." 

"And  he'll  eat  it!"  Willie  nodded 
firmly. 

Stover  issued  another  order,  this  time 
to  Carara. 

182 


"You  'n  Cloudy  butcher  the  wildest 
four-year-old  you  can  find.  If  you  can't 
get  close  enough  to  rope  him,  shoot  him, 
and  bring  in  a  hind  quarter.  It's  got  to 
be  here  in  time  for  breakfast." 

"Si,  SenorT  The  Mexican  picked  up 
his  lariat;  the  Indian  took  a  Winchester 
from  an  upper  bunk  and  filled  it  with 
cartridges. 

"Of  course,  he'll  have  to  eat  out  here; 
they  spoil  him  up  at  the  house." 

"Sure  thing!" 

"I'd  hate  to  see  him  lose ;  it  would  be  a 
terrible  blow  to  Miss  Blake."  Fresno 
shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"What  about  us?" 

"Oh,  you  can  stand  it — but  she's  a  girl. 
Ah,  well,"  the  speaker  sighed,  "I  hope 
nothing  occurs  between  now  and  Satur 
day  to  prevent  his  running." 

"It  won't,"  Stover  grimly  assured  the 
Californian.  "Nothin'  whatever  is  goin' 
to  occur." 

"He  was  speaking  yesterday  about 
the  possibility  of  some  business  engage 
ment—" 

The  small  mail  in  glasses  interrupted. 
r  183 


"Nothin'  but  death  shall  take  him  from 
us,  Mr.  Fresno." 

"If  I  think  of  anything  else,"  offered 
Berkeley,  kindly,  "I'll  tell  you." 

"We  wish  you  would." 

Fresno  returned  to  the  house,  hum 
ming  cheerily.  It  was  still  an  hour  until 
his  breakfast- time,  but  he  had  accom 
plished  much.  In  the  midst  of  his  medi 
tation  he  came  upon  Miss  Blake  emerging 
upon  the  rear  porch. 

' '  Good-morning !"  he  cried.  She  started 
a  trifle  guiltily.  "What  are  you  doing 
at  this  hour?" 

"Oh,  I  just  love  the  morning  air," 
she  answered.  "And  you?" 

"Same  here!  'Honesty  goes  to  bed 
early,  and  industry  rises  betimes.'  That's 
me!" 

"Then  you  have  been  working?" 

Fresno  nodded.  He  was  looking  at 
four  cowboys  who  w^ere  entering  the 
gymnasium,  staggering  beneath  dripping 
gunny-sacks.  Then  he  turned  his  gaze 
searchingly  upon  the  girl. 

"Were  you  looking  for  Speed?"  he 
asked  accusingly. 

184 


4 'The  idea!"  Miss  Blake  flushed 
faintly. 

"If  you  are,  he  has  gone  for  a  run.  I 
dearly  love  to  see  him  get  up  early  and 
run,  he  enjoys  it  so  To  give  pleasure 
to  others  is  one  of  my  constant  aims. 
That  is  why  I  learned  to  sing." 

"I   have  been  baking  a  cake,"   said 
Helen,  displaying  the  traces  of  her  oc 
cupation  upon  hands,  arms,  and  apron, 
while  Fresno,  at  sight  of  the  blue  apron 
tied  at  her  throat  and  waist,  felt  that 
he  himself  was  as  dough  in  her  hands. 
"I  had  a  dreadful  time  to  make  it  rise." 
"Early  rising  is  always  unpopular." 
"How  clever  you  are  this  morning." 
"If  I  were  a  cake  I  would  rise  at  your 
lightest  word." 

"The  cook  said  it  wouldn't  be  fit  to 
eat,"  declared  Helen. 

1  *  Jealousy !     She  hadn't  been  up  long. " 
"And  I  did  leave  a  lot  of  dishes  to 
wash  after  I  had  finished,"  Miss  Blake 
admitted. 

"I  should  love  to  eat  your  cooking." 
"Once  in  a  while,   perhaps,  but  not 
every  day." 


"Everyday — always  and  always.  You 
know  what  I  mean,  Miss  Blake — Helen!" 
The  young  man  bent  a  lover's  gaze  upon 
his  companion  until  he  detected  her 
eyes  fastened  with  startled  inquiry  upon 
his  toilet.  Remembering,  he  buttoned 
his  coat,  but  ran  on.  "This  is  the  first 
chance  I've  had  to  see  you  alone  since 
Speed  arrived.  There's  something  I 
want  to  ask  you." 

"I — I  know  what  it  is,"  stammered 
Helen.  "You  want  me  to  let  you  sing 
again.  Please  do.  I  love  morning 
music — and  your  voice  is  so  tender." 

"Life,"  said  Berkeley,  "is  one  sweet — " 

"What  is  going  on  here?"  demanded 
a  voice  behind  them,  and  Mrs.  Keap 
came  out  upon  the  porch,  eying  the  pair 
suspiciously.  It  was  evident  that  she, 
like  Fresno,  had  dressed  hurriedly. 

"Mr.  Fresno  is  going  to  sing  to  us," 
explained  the  younger  girl,  quickly. 

"Really?" 

' '  I  am  like  the  bird  that  greets  the  morn 
with  song, "  laughed  the  tenor,  awkwardly. 

"What  are  you  going  to  sing?"  de 
manded  the  chaperon,  still  suspiciously. 
186 


"Dearie." 

"Don't  you  know  any  other  song?" 
"Oh  yes,  but  they  are  all  sad." 
"I'm      getting      a      trifle      tired      of 
Dearie,   let's  have  one  of  the  others." 
Mrs.    Keap   turned   her  eyes   anxiously 
toward  the  training-quarters,  and  it  was 
patent  that  she  had  not  counted  upon 
this  encounter.     Noting  her  lack  of  ease, 
Fresno  said  hopefully: 

"If  you  are  going  for  a  walk,  I'll  sing 
for  you  at  some  other  time." 
"Is  Mr.  Speedup  yet?" 
"Up  and  gone.     He'll  be  back  soon." 
Then  Mrs.  Keap  sank  into  the  ham 
mock,  and  with  something  like  resigna 
tion,  said: 

"Proceed  with  the  song." 

Along  the  road  toward  the  ranch 
buildings  plodded  two  dusty  pedestrians, 
one  a  blond  youth  bundled  thickly  in 
sweaters,  the  other  a  fat  man  who  rolled 
heavily,  and  paused  now  and  then  to 
mop  his  purple  face.  Both  were  drip 
ping  as  if  from  an  immersion,  while  the 
air  about  the  latter  vibrated  with  heat 
13  187 


waves.  They  both  stumbled  as  they 
walked,  and  it  was  only  by  the  strongest 
effort  of  will  that  they  propelled  them 
selves.  As  they  neared  the  corner  of 
the  big,  low-lying  ranch-house,  already 
reflecting  the  hot  glare  of  the  morning 
sun,  a  man's  clear  tenor  voice  came  to 
them. 


"  The  volley  was  fired  at  sunrise, 
Just  at  the  break  of  day  " — 

"Did  you  get  that?"  one  of  the  two 
exclaimed  hoarsely.  "They're  practising 
a  death-march,  and  it's  ours." 

"And  as  the  echoes  lingered, 
His  soul  had  passed  away." 

"That's   you,    Wally!"    wheezed    th- 
trainer. 


"  Into  the  arms  of  his  Maker, 
There  to  learn  his  fate  " — 


Speed  broke  into  a  run. 
1 88 


"  A  tear,  a  sigh,  a  last  '  Good-bye  ' — 
The  pardon  came  too  late." 

"Here,  what  are  you  singing 
about?"  angrily  protested  Speed,  as  he 
rounded  into  view. 

"Oh,  it's  Mr.  Speed!" 

"Good-morning!"  chorused  Helen  and 
the  chaperon. 

"Welcome  to  our  city!"  Fresno 
greeted. 

Glass  tottered  to  the  steps.  "Them 
songs,"  he  puffed,  "is  bad  for  a  man 
when  he's  trainin';  they  get  him  all 
worked  up." 

"We  had  no  idea  you  would  be  back 
so  soon,"  apologized  Helen. 

"Soon!"  Speed  measured  the  dis 
tance  to  a  wicker  chair,  gave  it  up,  and 
sank  beside  his  trainer.  "We  left  yes 
terday!  We've  run  miles  and  miles  and 
miles!" 

"You  can't  be  in  very  good  shape," 
volunteered  the  singer. 

"Oh,  is  that  so?"  Glass  retorted.  "I 
say  he's  great.  He  got  my  goat — and 
I'm  some  runner." 

189 


"And  I'd  be  obliged  to  you  if  you'd 
cut  out  those  deeply  appealing  songs/' 
Speed  glowered  at  his  rival. 

It  was  Helen  who  hastened  to  smootk 
things. 

' '  It's  all  my  fault.  I  asked  Mr.  Fresno 
to  sing  something  new." 

"Bah!  That  was  written  by  William 
Cromwell." 

"No  more  of  them  bat  tie -hymns," 
Glass  ordered.  "They  don't  do  Mr. 
Speed  no  good." 

"All  I  want  is  a  drink,"  panted  that 
youthful  athlete,  and  Helen  rose 
quickly,  saying  that  she  would  bring 
ice-water. 

But  the  trainer  barked,  sharply : ' '  Nix ! 
I've  told  you  that  twenty  times,  Wally. 
It  '11  put  hob-nails  in  your  liver."  He 
rose  with  difficulty,  swaying  upon  his 
feet,  and  where  he  had  sat  was  a  large, 
irregular  shaped,  sweat-dampened  area. 
"Come  on!  Don't  get  chilled." 

"I'd  give  twenty  dollars  for  a  good 
chill!"  exclaimed  the  overheated  college 
man  longingly. 

"I  would  like  to  see  you  a  moment, 
190 


Mr.  Speed."  Roberta  rose  from  the 
hammock. 

' '  Oh,  and  F ve  forgotten  my—  Helen 
checked  her  words  with  a  startled  glance 
toward  the  kitchen.  "It  will  be  burned 
to  a  crisp."  She  hastened  down  the 
porch,  and  Fresno  followed,  while  Speed 
looked  after  them. 

"He  must  be  an  awful  nuisance  to  a 
nice  girl.  Think  of  a  fat,  sandy-haired 
husband  in  a  five-room  flat  with  pink 
wall-paper  and  a  colored  janitor.  Run 
along,  Muldoon,"  to  Glass,  'Til  be 
with  you  in  a  moment." 

When  the  trainer  had  waddled  out 
of  hearing,  Mrs.  Keap  inquired,  ea 
gerly: 

"Have  you  heard  from  Culver?" 

"Didn't  you  know  about  it?"  Speed 
swallowed. 

Roberta  shook  her  dark  head. 

"He's  in — he's  detained  at  Omaha  for 
ten  days.  I  fixed  it." 

The  overwrought  widow  dropped  back 
into  the  hammock,  crying  weakly: 

"Oh,  you  dear,  good  boy!" 

"Yes,  I'm  all  of  that.     I— I  suppose 

101 


I'd  be  missed  if — anything  happened 
to  me!" 

"How  ever  did  you  manage  it  ?" 

"  Never  mind  the  details.  It  took 
some  ingenuity." 

Mrs.  Keap  wrung  her  hands.  "I  was 
so  terribly  frightened !  You  see,  Jack  will 
be  back  to-morrow,  and  I — was  afraid — " 

There  was  a  call  from  Glass  from  the 
training-quarters. 

"How  can  I  ever  do  enough  for  you? 
You  have  averted  a  tragedy!" 

"Don't  let  Helen  know,  that's  all.  If 
she  thought  I'd  been  the  head  yeller — " 

"I  won't  breathe  a  word,  and  I  hope 
you  win  the  race  for  her  sake." 

Mrs.  Keap  pressed  the  hand  of  her 
deliverer,  who  trudged  his  lonely  way 
toward  the  gymnasium,  where  Glass  was 
saying : 

"'The  volley  was  fired  at  sunrise/ 
That  means  Saturday,  Bo." 

"Larry,  you're  the  best  crepe-hanger 
of  your  weight  in  the  world." 

Larry  bent  a  look  of  open  disgust 
upon  his  employer. 

"And  you're  a  good  runner,  you  are," 
192 


said  he.  "Why,  /  beat  you  this 
morning." 

The  younger  man  glanced  up  hope 
fully.  "Couldn't  you  beat  this  cook?" 

"You're  the  only  man  in  this  world 
I  can  outrun. 

"'A  tear,  a  sigh,  a  last   "good-bye."'" 

"Shut  up!" 

As  Glass  consented  to  do  this,  the 
speaker  mused,  bitterly,  "'Early  to  bed 
and  early  to  rise.'  I  wish  I  had  the 
night  -  watchman  who  wrote  those 
words." 

"Didn't  you  never  see  the  sun  rise 
before?" 

"Certainly  not.  I  don't  stay  up  that 
late." 

"Well,  ain't  it  beautiful!"  The  stout 
man  turned  admiring  eyes  to  the  east 
ward,  and  his  husky  voice  softened.  "All 
them  colors  and  tints  and  shades  and 
stuff!  And  New  York  on  the  other 
end!" 

"I'm  too  tired  to  see  beauty  in  any 
thing." 

193 


As  if  mindful  of  a  neglected  duty, 
Glass  turned  upon  him.  "What  are  you 
waiting  for?  Get  those  dog -beds  off 
your  back."  He  siezed  the  slack  of  a 
sweater  and  gave  it  a  jerk. 

"Don't  be  so  rough;  I'll  come.  You 
might  care  to  remember  you're  working 
for  me." 

"I  am  working" — Glass  dragged  his 
proteg6  about  the  room  regardless  of 
complaints  that  were  muffled  by  the 
thickness  of  the  sweaters — "for  my  life, 
and  I'll  be  out  of  a  job  Saturday.  Now, 
get  under  that  shower!" 


CHAPTER  XIII 


"  T^VO  you  know,  Larry,  I'm  beginning 

JL/  to  like  these  warm  showers ;  they 
rest  me."  As  he  spoke,  Wally  took  his 
place  beneath  the  barrel  and  pulled  the 
cord  that  connected  with  the  nozzle.  The 
next  instant  he  uttered  a  piercing  shriek 
and  leaped  from  beneath  the  apparatus, 
upsetting  Glass,  who  rose  in  time  to  fling 
his  charge  back  into  the  deluge. 

"Let  me  out!"  yelled  the  athlete,  and 
made  another  dash,  at  which  his  guar 
dian  bellowed: 

"Stand  still,  or  I'll  wallop  you! 
What's  got  into  you,  anyhow?" 

The  heads  of  Stover  and  Willie,  thrust 
through  the  door,  nodded  with  grati 
fication. 

"It's  got  him  livened  up  consider 
able,"  quoth  the  former.  "Listen  to 
that!" 

195 


It  seemed  that  a  battle  must  be  in 
progress  behind  the  screen,  for,  mingled 
with  the  gasping  screams  of  the  ath 
lete  and  the  hoarse  commands  of  the 
trainer,  came  sounds  of  physical  con 
tact.  The  barrel  rocked  upon  its  scaf 
fold,  the  curtains  swayed  and  flapped 
violently. 

"Stand  still!" 

"It's— it's  as  c-c-cold  as  ice!" 

"Nix!  You're  overheated,  that's 
all." 

"Ow-w-w!    Ooo-h-h!    I'm  dying!" 

"It  '11  do  you  good." 

"He's  certainly  trainin'  him  some," 
said  Stover. 

"Lam',  I've  got  a  cramp!" 

"It  did  harden  him,"  acknowledged 
Willie. 

"What's  \vrong  with  you,  anyhow?" 
demanded  Glass. 

"It's  not  me,  it's  the  w-w-water!" 

Evidently  Speed  made  a  frantic  lunge 
here  and  escaped,  for  the  flow  of  water 
ceased. 

"It  froze  d-d-during  the  night.  Oh-h! 
I'm  cold!" 

196 


"Cold,  eh?  Get  onto  that  rubbing- 
board;  I'll  warm  you." 

An  instant  later  the  cow-men  heard 
the  sounds  of  a  violent  slapping  mingled 
with  groans. 

"Go  easy,  I  say!  I'll  be  black  and 
blue  all — LOOK  OUT! — not  so  much  in 
one  spot!  Ow!" 

"Turn  over!" 

"He's  spankin'  him,"  said  Stover  ad 
miringly. 

Again  the  spatting  arose,  this  time 
like  the  sound  of  a  musketry  fusilade, 
during  which  Berkeley  Fresno  entered 
by  the  other  door. 

"Don't  be  so  brutal!"  wailed  the 
patient  to  his  masseur. 

"  I'm  pretty  near  through.  There!  Now 
get  up  and  dress,"  ordered  the  trainer, 
who,  pushing  his  way  out  through  the 
blankets,  halted  at  sight  of  the  onlookers. 

"How  is  he?"  demanded  Stover. 

"He — he's  trained  to  the  minute.  I'm 
doin'  my  share,  gents." 

"Sounds  that  way,"  acknowledged 
Stover's  companion.  "Say,  does  it  look 
like  we'd  win?" 

197 


"Well,  he  just  breezed  a  mile  in  forty, 
with  his  mouth  open." 

"A  mile?"  Fresno  queried. 

"Yes,  a  regular  mile — seven  thousand 
five  hundred  and  thirty  feet." 

"Is  'forty'  good?"  queried  Willie. 

"Good?  Why,  Sal vator  never  worked 
no  faster.  Here  he  is  now — look  for 
yourselves." 

Speed  appeared,  partly  clad,  and  glow 
ing  with  a  rich  salmon  pink. 

"Good-morning,"  said  Fresno  politely. 
"I  came  in  to  see  how  you  liked  the  cold 
water." 

"So  that  was  one  of  your  California 
jokes,  eh?  Well,  I'll—" 

Speed  moved  ominously  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  tenor,  but  Willie  checked 
him. 

"We  put  the  ice  in  that  bar'l,  Mr. 
Speed." 

"You!" 

Willie  and  Stover  nodded. 

"Then  let  me  tell  you  I  expect  to  have 

pneumonia     from     that     bath."       The 

young  man  coughed  hollowly.      "That's 

the  way  I  caught  it  once  before,  and  it 

198 


wouldn't  surprise  me  a  bit  if  I'd  be  too 
sick  to  run  by  Saturday/' 

"Oh  no;  you  don't  get  pneumony 
but  once." 

"And,  besides,"  Fresno  added,  "it 
wouldn't  have  time  to  show  up  by 
Saturday." 

"Get  that  ice-chest  out  of  my  room, 
that's  all;  it  makes  the  air  damp." 

"No  indeed!"  said  Still  Bill.  "We're 
goin'  to  see  that  you  use  it  reg'lar."  Then 
of  Glass  he  inquired:  "What  do  you  do 
to  him  next?" 

"I  give  him  a  nerve  treatment.  A 
jack-rabbit  jumped  at  him  this  morning 
and  he  bolted  to  the  outside  fence." 
Larry  forced  his  employer  to  a  seat,  then, 
securing  a  firm  hold  of  the  flesh,  began 
to  discourse  learnedly  upon  anatomy  and 
hygiene,  the  while  his  victim  writhed. 
It  was  evident  that  the  cattle-men  were 
intensely  interested.  "Well,  sir,  when 
I  first  got  him  his  sploven  was  in  terrible 
shape,"  said  Larry.  "In  fact,  I  never 
saw  such  a — 

"What  was  in  terrible  shape?"  vent 
ured  the  tenor. 

199 


"His  sploven." 

"Sploven!  Is  that  a  locality  or  a 
beverage?" 

Glass  glowered  at  the  cause  of  the  in 
terruption.  ''It's  a  nerve-centre,  of 
course!"  Then  to  the  others,  he  ran  on, 
glibly:  "The  treatment  was  simple,  but 
it  took  time  You  see,  I  had  to  first 
trace  his  bedildo  to  its  source,  like  this." 
He  thrust  a  finger  into  Wally's  back 
and  ploughed  a  furrow  upward.  "You 
see?"  He  paused,  triumphantly.  "A 
fore-shortened  bedildo!  It  ain't  well 
yet." 

"Can  a  man  run  fast  with  one  of 
them?"  inquired  Willie. 

"Certainly,  cer-tain-ly — provided,  of 
course,  that  the  percentage  of  spelldiffer 
in  the  blood  offsets  it." 

Both  cowboys  came  closer  now,  and 
hung  eagerly  upon  every  word. 

"And — does  it  do — that?"  they  ques 
tioned,  while  Fresno  suggested  that  it 
wras  not  easy  to  tell  without  bleeding  the 
patient. 

"No,  no!     You  can  hear  the  spell- 
differs."     Glass  motioned  to  Willie. 
200 


"Put    your    ear    to    his    chest.      Hear 
anything?" 

'•'Heart's  poundin1  like  a  calf's  at  a 
brandin'." 

"Which  proves  it!"  proudly  asserted 
the  trainer.  "Barrin'  accidents,  Mr. 
Speed  will  be  in  the  pink  of  condition 
by  Saturday." 

The  cow-men  beamed  benignantly. 

"That's  fine!" 

"We  are  sure  pleased,  and  we've  got 
something  for  you,  Mr.  Speed.  Come 
on,  Mr.  Fresno,  and  give  us  a  hand. 
We'll  bring  it  in." 

"It's  a  present!"  exclaimed  the  athlete, 
brightly,  when  the  three  had  gone  out. 
"They  seem  more  friendly  this  morning." 

"Yes!"  Glass  laughed,  mirthlessly. 
"They  think  you're  going  to  win." 

"Well,  how  do  you  know  I  can't  win? 
You  never  saw  this  cook  run." 

"I  don't  have  to;  I've  seen  you." 

"Just  the  same,  I'm  in  pretty  good 
shape.  Maybe  I  could  run  if  I  really 
tried." 

"Send  yourself  along,  Kid.  It  won't 
harm  you  none."  The  speaker  fanned 

201 


himself,  and  took  a  seat  in  the  cosey- 
corner. 

1  *  Ah !  Here  they  come,  bearing  gifts/' 
Speed  rose  in  pleased  expectancy.  "I 
wonder  what  it  can  be?" 

The  three  who  had  just  left  re-en 
tered  the  room,  carrying  a  tray-load  of 
thick  railroad  crockery. 

4 'We've  brought  your  breakfast  to 
you,"  explained  Stover.  "We'd  like  you 
to  eat  alone  till  after  the  race."  Still 
Bill  began  to  whittle  what  appeared  to 
be  a  blood-rare  piece  of  flesh,  while 
Willie  awkwardly  arranged  the  dishes. 

"You  want  me  to  eat  as  well  as  sleep 
here?" 

"Exactly." 

"Oh,  I  can't  do  that!  I'm  sorry,  but—" 

"Don't  make  us  insist."  Willie  look 
ed  up  from  his  tray,  and  Glass  raised  a 
moist  hand  and  said: 

"Don't  make  'em  insist." 

With  fascinated  stare  Speed  drew 
nearer  to  Stover  and  examined  the  meat 
bone. 

"Why— why,  that's  raw!"  he  ex 
claimed. 

202 


"Does  look  rar',"  agreed  the  foreman. 

"Then  take  it  out  and  build  a  fire 
under  it.  I'll  consent  to  eat  here,  but  I 
won't  turn  cannibal,  even  to  please  you." 

"I'm  sorry. ' '  Stover  did  not  interrupt 
his  carving. 

"Your  diet  ain't  been  right,"  explained 
Willie.  "You  ain't  wild  enough  to  suit 


us." 


Speed  searched  one  serious  face,  then 
another.  Fresno  was  nodding  approval, 
his  countenance  impassive. 

"Is  this  a  joke?" 

"We  ain't  never  joked  with  you  yit, 
have  we?" 

"No.     But—" 

"This  breakfast  goes  as  she  lays!" 

Glass  broke  abruptly  into  smothered 
merriment.  "When  I  laugh  nowadays 
it's  a  funny  joke,"  he  giggled. 

That  grown  men  could  be  so  stupid 
was  unbelievable,  and  Wally,  seeing  him 
self  the  object  of  a  senseless  prank,  was 
roused  to  anger. 

"Lawrence,  get  my  coat,"  said  he. 
"I've  been  bullied  enough;  I'm  going  up 
to  the  house."  When  Stover  only  con- 

14  2°3 


tinned  whittling  methodically,  he  burst 
out:  "Stop  honing  that  shin-bone!  If 
you  like  it  you  can  eat  it!  I'm  going 
now  to  swallow  a  stack  of  hot  cakes 
with  maple  syrup!" 

"Mr.  Speed,"  Willie  impaled  him 
with  a  steady  glare,  "you'll  eat  wrhat  we 
tell  you  to,  and  nothin'  else !  If  we  say 
'grass,'  grass  it  '11  be.  You're  goin'  to 
beat  one  Skinner  if  it  takes  a  human 
life.  And  if  that  life  happens  to  be 
yours,  you  got  nobody  but  yourself  to 
blame." 

"Indeed!" 

"You  heard  me!  I've  been  set  to 
ride  herd  on  you  daytimes,  the  other 
boys  '11  guard  you  nights.  We  been 
double-crossed  once — it  won't  happen 
again." 

"Then  it  amounts  to  this,  does  it: 
I'm  your  prisoner?" 

"More  of  a  prized  possession,"  offered 
Stover.  "If  you  ain't  got  the  loy'lty 
to  stand  by  us,  we  got  to  make  you! 
This  diet  is  part  of  the  programme. 
Now  if  you  think  beef  is  too  hearty  for 
this  time  of  day,  tear  into  them  eggs." 
204 


"You  intend  to  make  me  eat  this 
disgusting  stuff,  whether  I  want  to  or 
not?"  Even  yet  the  youth  could  not 
convince  himself  that  this  was  other  than 
a  joke. 

"No."  Willie  shook  his  head.  "We 
•just  aim  to  make  you  want  to  eat  it." 

Then  Larry  Glass  made  his  fatal 
mistake. 

"Say,  why  don't  you  let  Mr.  Speed 
buy  you  a  new  phonograph,  and  call  the 
race  off?"  he  inquired. 

Stover,  stricken  dumb,  paused,  knife 
in  hand;  Willie  stared  as  if  bereft  of 
motion.  Then  the  former  spoke  slowly. 
"Looks  like  we'd  ought  to  smoke  up  this 
fat  party,  Will." 

Willie  nodded,  and  Glass  realized 
that  the  little  man's  steel-blue  eyes  were 
riveted  balefully  upon  him. 

"I've  had  a  hunch  it  would  come  to 
that,"  the  near-sighted  one  replied. 
"Every  time  I  look  at  him  I  see  a 
bleedin'  bullet-hole  in  his  abominable 
regions,  about  here."  He  laid  a  finger 
upon  his  stomach,  and  Glass  felt  a 
darting  pain  at  precisely  the  same  spot. 
205 


It  was  as  agonizing  as  if  Willie's  spec 
tacles  were  huge  burning-glasses  focus 
sing  the  rays  of  a  tropic  sun  upon  his 
bare  flesh.  He  folded  protecting  hands 
over  the  threatened  region  and  backed 
toward  the  prayer-rug,  mumbling  "  Allah! 
Allah!"  No  matter  whither  he  shifted, 
the  eyes  bored  into  him. 

" That's  where  you  hit  the  gambler  at 
Ogden,"  he  heard  Stover  say — it  might 
have  been  from  a  great  distance — "but  I 
aim  for  the  bridge  of  the  nose." 

"The  belly  ain't  so  sudden  as  the  eye- 
socket,  but  it's  more  lingerin',  and  a 
heap  painfuller, ' '  explained  the  gun  man, 
and  Speed  was  moved  to  sympathy. 

"Larry  only  wanted  to  please  you — 
eh,  Larry?"  he  said,  nervously,  but 
Glass  made  no  reply.  His  distended 
orbs  were  frozen  upon  Willie.  It  was 
doubtful  if  he  even  heard. 

"Our  honor  ain't  for  sale,"  Still  Bill 
declared. 

Here    Berkeley    Fresno    spoke.     "Of 

course    not.     And    you    mustn't    think 

that  Speed  is  trying  to  get  out  of  the 

race.     He  wants  to  run!    And  if  any- 

206 


thing  happened  to  prevent  his  running 
he'd  be  broken-hearted,  I  know  he 
would!" 

Willie's  hypnotic  eye  left  the  trainer's 
abdomen  and  travelled  slowly  to  Speed. 

"What  could  happen?"  questioned  he. 

14 N -nothing  that  I  know  of." 

41  You  don't  aim  to  leave?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"Oh,  you  fellows  take  it  too  seriously," 
Fresno  offered  carelessly.  "He  might 
have  to." 

Willie's  upper  lip  drew  back,  showing 
his  yellow  teeth. 

"They  don't  sell  no  railroad  tickets 
before  Saturday,  and  the  walkin'  is  bad. 
There's  your  breakfast,  Mr.  Speed. 
When  you've  et  your  fill,  you  better 
rest.  And  don't  talk  to  them  ladies, 
neither;  it  spoils  your  train  of  thought!" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

NOW  that  the  possibility  of  escape 
from  the  Flying  Heart  was  cut 
off,  the  young  man  felt  agonizing  regret 
that  he  had  not  yielded  to  his  trainer's 
earlier  importunities  and  taken  refuge 
in  flight  while  there  was  yet  time.  It 
would  have  been  undignified,  perhaps; 
but  once  away  from  these  single-minded 
cattle-men,  his  life  would  have  been 
safe  at  least,  and  he  could  have  trusted 
his  ingenuity  to  reinstate  him  in  Miss 
Blake's  good  graces.  Everything  was  too 
late  now.  Even  if  he  made  a  clean 
breast  of  the  whole  affair  to  Jean,  or 
to  her  brother  when  he  arrived,  what 
good  would  that  do  ?  He  doubted  Jack's 
ability  to  save  him,  in  the  light  of  what 
had  just  passed;  for  men  like  Willie 
cared  nothing  for  the  orders  of  the  person 
whose  pay-roll  they  chanced  to  grace. 
208 


And  Willie  was  not  alone,  either;  the 
rest  of  the  crew  were  equally  desperate. 
What  heed  would  these  nomads  pay  to 
Jack  Chapin's  commands,  once  they 
learned  the  truth?  They  were  Arabs 
who  owed  allegiance  to  no  one  but 
themselves,  the  country  was  wild,  the 
law  was  feeble,  it  was  twenty  miles  to 
the  railroad!  And,  besides,  the  thought 
of  confession  was  abhorrent.  Physical 
injury,  no  matter  how  severe,  was  in 
finitely  preferable  to  Helen  Blake's  dis 
dain.  He  cast  about  desperately  for 
some  saving  loophole,  but  found  him 
self  trapped  —  completely,  hopelessly 
trapped. 

There  were  still,  however,  two  days 
of  grace,  and  to  youth  two  days  is  an 
eternity.  Therefore,  he  closed  his  eyes 
and  trusted  to  the  unexpected.  How 
the  unexpected  could  get  past  that  grim, 
watchful  sentry  just  outside  the  door  he 
could  not  imagine,  but  when  the  break 
fast-bell  reminded  him  of  his  hunger,  he 
banished  his  fears  for  the  sake  of  the 
edibles  his  custodians  had  served. 

"Don't  you  want  anything  to  eat?" 
209 


he  inquired,  when  Larry  made  no  move 
to  depart  for  the  cook-house. 

"No." 

"Not  hungry,  eh?" 

"I'm  hungry  enough  to  eat  a  plush 
cushion,  but — " 

"What?" 

"Mary!" 

"Mariedetta?" 

"Sure.  She's  been  chasin'  me  again. 
If  somebody  don't  side-track  that  Cuban, 
I'll  have  to  lick  Carara."  He  sighed. 
"I  told  you  we'd  ought  to  tin-can  it  out 
of  here.  Now  it's  too  late." 

Willie  thrust  his  head  in  through  the 
open  window,  inquiring,  "Well,  how's 
the  breakfast  goin'  ?"  and  withdrew,  hum 
ming  a  favorite  song: 

"'Sam  Bass  was  born  in  Indiany; 

It  was  his  natif  home. 
At  the  early  age  of  seventeen 

Young  Sam  commenced  to  roam.*' 

"Fine  voice!"  said  Lawrence,  with  a 
shudder. 

It  was  perhaps  a  half -hour  later  that 
Helen  Blake  came  tripping  into  the 
210 


gymnasium,  radiant,  sparkling,  her  crisp 
white  dress  touched  here  and  there  with 
blue  that  matched  her  eyes,  in  her 
hands  a  sunshade,  a  novel,  and  a  mys 
terious  little  bundle. 

"We  were  so  sorry  to  lose  you  at  break 
fast,"  she  began. 

Wally  led  her  to  the  cosey-corner,  and 
seated  himself  beside  her. 

"I  suppose  it  is  a  part  of  this  horrid 
training.  I  would  never  have  men 
tioned  that  foot-race  if  I  had  dreamed 
it  would  be  like  this." 

Here  at  least  was  a  soul  that  sym 
pathized. 

"The  only  hardship  is  not  to  see  you," 
he  declared  softly. 

Miss  Blake  dropped  her  eyes. 

"I  thought  you  might  like  to  go  walk 
ing  ;  it's  a  gorgeous  morning.  You  see,  I've 
brought  a  book  to  read  to  you  while  you 
rest — you  must  be  tired  after  your  run." 

"I  am,  and  I  will.  This  is  awfully 
good  of  you,  Miss  Blake."  Speed  rose, 
overwhelmed  with  joy,  but  the  look  of 
Glass  was  not  to  be  passed  by.  "I — I'm 
afraid  it's  impossible,  however." 

211 


The  blue  eyes  flew  open  in  astonish 
ment.  "Why?"  the  girl  questioned. 

"They  won't  let  me.  I — I'm  sup 
posed  to  keep  to  myself." 

"They?     Who?" 

"Glass." 

Miss  Blake  turned  indignantly  upon 
Larry.  "Do  you  mean  to  say  Mr. 
Speed  can't  go  walking  with  me?" 

"I  never  said  nothing  of  the  sort," 
declared  the  trainer.  "He  can  go  if 
he  wants  to." 

"Just  the  same,  I — oughtn't  to  do  it. 
There  is  a  strict  routine — " 

A  lift  of  the  brows  and  a  courteous 
smile  proclaimed  Miss  Blake's  perfect  in 
difference  to  the  subject,  just  as  Willie 
sauntered  past  the  open  window  and 
spoke  to  Glass  beneath  his  breath: 

"Git  her  out!" 

"I'm  so  sorry.  May  I  show  you  a 
surprise  I  brought  for  you?"  She  un 
wrapped  her  parcel,  and  proudly  dis 
played  a  pallid,  ansemic  cake  garlanded 
with  wild  flowers. 

Speed  was  honestly  overcome. 
-Forme?" 


"For  you.  It  isn't  even  cold  yet,  seef 
I  made  it  before  breakfast,  and  it  looks 
even  better  than  the  one  I  baked  at 
school!" 

"That's  what  I  call  fine,"  declared 
the  youth.  "By  Jove!  and  I'm  so 
fond  of  cake!" 

"Have  a  care!"  breathed  Larry,  rising 
nervously,  but  Speed  paid  no  attention. 

"Break  it  with  your  own  hands,  please. 
Besides,  it's  too  hot  to  cut." 

Miss  Blake  broke  it  with  her  own 
hands,  during  which  operation  the  brown 
face  of  the  man  outside  reappeared  in  the 
window.  At  sight  of  the  cake  he  spoke 
sharply,  and  Lawrence  lumbered  swiftly 
across  the  floor  and  laid  a  heavy  hand 
upon  thx  cake. 

"Mr.  Speed!"  he  cried  warningly. 

"Here,  take  your  foot  off  my  angel- 
food!"  fiercely  ordered  the  youth.  But 
the  other  was  like  adamant. 

"Bo,  you  are  about  to  contest  for 
the  honor  of  this  ranch  t  That  cake  will 
make  a  bum  of  you!" 

"Oh — h!"  gasped  the  author  of  the 
delicacy. 

213 


"Stop  before  it  is  too  late!"  Glass 
held  his  hungry  employer  at  a  distance, 
striving  to  make  known  by  a  wink  the 
necessity  of  his  act. 

"There  is  absolutely  nothing  in  my 
cake  to  injure  any  one,"  Helen  objected 
loyally,  with  lifted  chin;  whereupon  the 
corpulent  trainer  turned  to  her  and  said : 

"Cake  would  crab  any  athlete.  Cake 
and  gals  is  the  limit." 

"Really!  I  had  no  idea  I  was  the 
least  bit  dangerous."  Miss  Blake,  turn 
ing  to  her  host,  smiled  frigidly.  "I'm  so 
sorry  I  intruded." 

"Now  don't  say  that!"  Speed  strove 
to  detain  her.  ' '  Please  don't  be  offended 
— I  just  have  to  train!" 

"Of  course.  And  will  you  pardon  me 
for  interrupting  your  routine  ?  You  see, 
I  had  no  idea  I  wasn't  wanted." 

"But  you  are,  and  I  do  want  you! 
j » 

"Good-bye!"  She  nodded  pleasantly 
at  the  door,  and  left  her  lover  staring 
after  her. 

When  she  had  gone,  he  cried,  in  a 
trembling  voice :  "You're  a  fine  yap,  you 
214 


are!  She  got  up  early  to  do  something 
nice  for  me,  and  you  insulted  her!  You 
wouldn't  even  let  me  sit  and  hold  her 
hand!" 

"No  palm-readin'."  Speed  turned  to 
behold  his  trainer  ravenously  devouring 
the  cake,  and  dashed  to  its  rescue. 

"It's  heavier  than  a  frog  full  of  buck 
shot.  You  won't  like  it,  Cul." 

"It's  perfectly  delicious!"  came  the 
choking  answer. 

"Then  get  back  of  them  curtains. 
Willie  'd  shoot  on  sight." 

All  that  morning  the  prisoner  idled 
about  the  premises,  followed  at  a  distance 
by  his  guard.  Wherever  he  went  he 
seemed  to  see  the  sun  flash  defiance  from 
the  polished  surface  of  those  lenses,  and 
while  he  was  allowed  a  certain  liberty,  he 
knew  full  well  that  this  espionage  would 
never  cease,  night  or  day,  until — what  ? 
He  could  not  bear  to  read  the  future; 
anything  seemed  possible.  Time  and 
again  he  cursed  that  spirit  of  braggadocio, 
that  thoughtless  lack  of  moral  scruple, 
which  had  led  him  into  this  predica 
ment.  He  vowed  that  he  was  done  with 
215 


false  pretences;  henceforth  the  strictest 
probity  should  be  his.  No  more  false 
poses.  Praise  won  by  dissimluation  and 
deceit  was  empty,  anyhow,  and  did  he 
escape  this  once,  henceforth  the  world 
should  know  J.  Wallingford  Speed  for 
what  he  was — an  average  individual, 
with  no  uncommon  gifts  of  mind  or 
body,  courage  or  ability. 

Yet  it  was  small  comfort  to  realize 
that  he  was  getting  his  just  deserts,  and 
it  likewise  availed  little  to  anathematize 
Fresno  as  the  cause  of  his  misfortune. 

At  noon  Wally  went  through  the 
mockery  of  a  second  blood-rare  meal, 
with  no  cake  to  follow,  and  that  after 
noon  Glass  dragged  him  out  under  the 
hot  sun,  and  made  him  sprint  until  he 
was  ready  to  drop  from  exhaustion. 
His  supper  was  wretched,  and  his  fatigue 
so  great  that  he  fell  asleep  at  Miss  Blake's 
side  during  the  evening.  With  the  first 
hint  of  dawn  he  was  up  again,  and 
Friday  noon  found  him  utterly  hopeless, 
when,  true  to  his  prediction,  the  un 
expected  happened.  In  one  moment  he 
was  raised  from  the  blackest  depths  to 
216 


the  wildest  transports  of  delight.  It 
came  in  the  shape  of  a  telegram  which 
Jean  summoned  him  to  the  house  to 
receive.  He  wondered  listlessly  as  he 
opened  the  message,  then  started  as  if 
disbelieving  his  eyes;  the  marks  of  a 
wild  emotion  spread  over  his  features, 
he  burst  into  shrill,  hysterical  laughter. 

"Do  tell  us!"  begged  Roberta. 

1 '  Co vington — Co vington  is  coming !" 
Wally  felt  his  head  whirl,  and  failed  to 
note  the  chaperon's  cry  of  surprise  and 
see  the  paling  of  her  cheeks.  "Cov- 
ington  is  coming!  Don't  you  under 
stand?"  he  shouted.  After  all,  the  gods 
were  not  deaf!  Good  old  Culver,  who 
had  never  failed  him,  was  coming  as  a 
deliverer. 

Even  in  the  face  of  his  extraordinary 
outburst  the  attention  of  the  beholders 
was  drawn  to  Lawrence  Glass,  who 
caused  the  porch  to  shake  beneath  his 
feet ;  who  galloped  to  his  employer,  and, 
seizing  him  by  the  hands,  capered  about 
like  a  hippopotamus. 

"I  told  you  'Allah*  was  some  guy,"  he 
wheezed.  ' '  When  does  Co  vington  arrive  ?" 
217 


Wally  reread  the  message.  "It  says 
'Noon  Friday.'  Why,  that's  to-day!  He's 
here  now!" 

"'Rah!  'Rah!  'Rah!  Covington!" 
bellowed  the  trainer,  and  Mrs.  Keap 
sank  to  a  seat  with  a  stifled  moan. 

1 '  Why  all  the  '  Oh  joy !  Oh,  rapture !' 
stuff?"  questioned  Berkeley  Fresno. 

"As  Socrates,  the  Hemlock  Kid, 
would  put  it,  '  Snatched  from  the  shadow 
of  the  grave,' "  quoth  Glass,  then  paused 
abruptly.  "Say,  you  don't  think  nothiri' 
could  happen  to  him  on  the  way  over 
from  the  depot?" 

"I'm  so  sorry  we  didn't  know  in 
time  to  meet  him,"  lamented  Miss 
Chapin. 

"And  I  could  have  run  over  to  the 
railroad  to  bid  him  welcome,"  laughed 
Speed.  "Twenty  miles  would  do  me 
good." 

Still  Bill  and  Willie  approached  the 
gallery  curiously,  and  in  subdued  tones 
inquired : 

"What's  the  matter,  Mr.  Speed?" 

"You  ain't  been  summoned  away?" 
Willie  stared  questioningly  upward. 
218 


' '  No,  no !  My  running  partner  is  on  his 
way  here,  that's  all." 

"Running  pardner?" 

"Culver  Covington." 

"Oh,  we  was  afraid  something  had 
happened.  You  see,  Gabby  Gallagher 
has  just  blowed  in  from  the  Centipede 
to  raise  our  bets." 

"We  think  it's  a  bluff,  and  we'd  like 
to  call  him." 

"Do  so,  by  all  means!"  cried  the 
excited  athlete.  "Come  on,  let's  all 
talk  to  him!" 

The  entire  party,  with  the  exception 
of  Mrs.  Keap,  trooped  down  from  the 
porch  and  followed  the  foreman  out 
toward  the  sheds,  where,  in  the  midst 
of  a  crowd  of  ranch-hands,  a  burly,  loud- 
voiced  Texan  was  discoursing. 

"I  do  wish  Jack  were  here,"  said 
Jean  nervously,  on  the  way. 

Gabby  Gallagher  seemed  a  fitting 
leader  for  such  a  desperate  crew  as  that 
of  the  Centipede,  for  he  was  the  hardest- 
looking  citizen  the  Easterners  had  be 
held  thus  far.  He  was  thickset,  and 
burned  to  the  color  of  a  ripe  olive;  his 

15  219 


long,  drooping  mustaches,  tobacco-stain 
ed  at  the  centre,  were  bleached  at  the 
extremities  to  a  hempen  hue.  His  bris 
tly  hair  was  cut  short,  and  stood  aggres 
sively  erect  upon  a  bullet  head,  his 
clothes  were  soiled  and  greasy  beneath 
a  gray  coating  of  dust.  A  pair  of  alert, 
lead -blue  eyes  and  a  certain  facility 
of  movement  belied  the  drawl  that 
marked  his  nativity.  He  removed  his 
hat  and  bowed  at  sight  of  Miss  Chapin. 

"Good-evenin',  Miss  Jean!"  said  he. 
"I  hope  I  find  y'all  well." 

"Quite  well,  Gallagher.    And  you?" 

"Tol'able,  thank  you." 

" These  are  my  friends  from  the  East." 

The  Centipede  foreman  ran  his  eyes 
coldly  over  Jean's  companions  until 
they  rested  upon  Speed,  where  they 
remained.  He  shifted  a  lump  in  his 
cheek,  spat  dexterously,  and  directed  his 
remark  at  the  Yale  man. 

"I  rode  over  to  see  if  y'all  would  like 
to  lay  a  little  mo'  on  this  y'ere  foot-race. 
I  allow  you  are  the  unknown?" 

Speed  nodded,  and  Stover  took  oc 
casion  to  remark: 

220 


"Them's  our  inclinations,  but  we've 
about  gone  our  limit." 

"I  don't  blame  you  none,"  said 
Gallagher,  allowing  his  gaze  to  rove 
slowly  from  top  to  toe  of  the  Eastern 
lad.  "No,  I  cain't  blame  you  none 
whatever.  But  I'm  terrible  grieved  at 
them  ti din's.  Though  we  Centipede 
punchers  has  ever  considered  y'all  a 
cheap  an'  poverty-ridden  outfit,  we  gives 
you  credit  for  bein'  game,  till  now." 
He  spat  for  a  second  time,  and  regarded 
Stover  scornfully. 

A  murmur  ran  through  the  cowboys. 

"We  are  game,"  retorted  Stover,  "and 
for  your  own  good  don't  allow  no  belief 
to  the  contrary  to  become  a  superstition." 
Of  a  sudden  the  gangling,  spineless  fore 
man  had  grown  taut  and  forceful,  his 
long  face  was  hard. 

"Don't  let  a  Centipede  bluff  you!" 
exclaimed  Speed.  "Cover  anything  they 
offer — give  'em  odds.  Anything  you 
don't  want,  I'll  take,  pay  or  play,  money 
at  the  tape.  We  can't  lose." 

"I  got  no  more  money,"  said  Carara, 
removing  his  handsome  bespangled  hat, 

221 


"but  I  bet  my  sombrero.  'E's  wort' 
two  hondred  pesos." 

Murphy,  the  Swede,  followed  quickly: 

' '  Aye  ban'  send  may  vages  home  to  may 
ole'  moder,  but  aye  skall  bat  you  some." 

"Haven't  you  boys  risked  enough 
already?"  ventured  Miss  Chapin.  "Re 
member,  it  will  go  pretty  hard  with  the 
losers." 

"Harder  the  better,"  came  a  voice. 

"Y'all  don't  have  to  bet,  jest  because 
I'm  h'yar,"  gibed  Gallagher. 

"God!  I  wish  I  was  rich!"  exclaimed 
Willie. 

But  Miss  Chapin  persisted.  "You  are 
two  months  overdrawn,  all  of  you.  My 
brother  won't  advance  you  any  more." 

"Then  my  man,  Lawrence,  will  take 
what  they  can't  cover,"  offered  Speed. 

"That's  right!  Clean  'em  good, 
brothers,"  croaked  the  trainer. 

"If  you'll  step  over  to  the  bunk- 
house,  Gabby,  we'll  dig  up  some  person 
al  perquisites  and  family  hairlooms." 
Stover  nodded  toward  his  men's  quar 
ters,  and  Gallagher  grinned  joyously. 

"That  shore  listens  like  a  band  from 

222 


where  I  set.  We  aim  to  annex  the 
wages,  hopes,  and  personal  ambitions  of 
y'all,  along  with  your  talkin'-machine." 

"Excuse  me."  Willie  pushed  his  way 
forward.  "How's  she  gettin'  along?" 

"Fine!" 

"You  mule-skinners  ain't  broke  her?" 

"No;    we  plays  her  every  evenin'." 

The  little  man  shifted  his  feet;  then 
allowed  himself  to  inquire,  as  if  regard 
ing  the  habits  of  some  dear  departed 
friend : 

"Have  you  chose  any  favorite  ree- 
cords?" 

"We  all  has  our  picks.  Speakin'  per 
sonal,  I'm  stuck  on  that  baggage  coach 
song  of  Mrs.  More's." 

"Moray/"  Willie  corrected.  "M-o-r-a! 
Heleney  Mora?  is  the  lady's  name." 

"Mebbe  so.  Our  foot-runner  likes 
that  Injun  war-dance  best  of  alL" 
Carara  smiled  at  Cloudy,  who  nodded,  as 
if  pleased  by  the  compliment.  Then 
it  was  that  the  Flying  Heart  spokesman 
made  an  inquiry  in  hushed,  hesitating 
tones. 

"How  do  you  like  The  Holy  City"— 
223 


he  removed  his  hat,  is  did  those  back 
of  him.  "As  sr^g  by  Madam  -  o  -  sella 
Melby?" 

"Rotten!"  Gallagher  said  promptly. 
''Tnat's  a  bum,  for  fair." 

During  one  breathless  instant  the 
wizened  man  stood  as  if  disbelieving  his 
ears,  the  enormity  of  the  insult  robbing 
him  of  speech  and  motion.  Then  he 
uttered  a  snarl,  and  Stover  was  barely 
in  time  to  intercept  the  backward  fling 
of  his  groping  hand. 

"No  voylence,  Willie!  There's  ladies 
present." 

Stover's  captive  ground  his  teeth  and 
struggled  briefly,  then  turned  and  made 
for  the  open  prairie  without  a  word. 

"It's  his  first  love,"  said  Stover, 
simply.  The  other  foreman  exploded 
into  hoarse  laughter,  saying: 

"I  didn't  reckon  I  was  treadin'  on  the 
toes  of  no  bereafed  relatif's,  but  them 
church  tunes  ain't  my  style.  However, 
we're  wastin'  time,  gents.  Where's  that 
bunk-house?  Nothin'  but  money  talks 


loud  enough  for  me  to  hear.  Good-day, 
white  folks!"  Gallagher  saluted  Miss 
Chapin  and  her  friends  with  a  flourish, 
and  moved  away  in  company  with  the 
cowboys. 

"I  never,"  said  Glass,  "seen  so  many 
tough  guys  outside  of  a  street -car 
strike." 

"Gallagher  has  been  in  prison,"  Jean 
informed  him.  "He's  a  wonderful 
shot." 

"I  knew  it!" 

Speed  spoke  up  brightly:  "Well,  let's 
go  back  to  the  house  and  wait  for 
Covington." 

"But  you  were  getting  ready  to  go 
running,"  said  Helen. 

"No  more  running  for  me!  I'm  in 
good  enough  shape,  eh,  Larry?" 

"Great!     Barring   the    one    thing." 

"What's  that  ?"  queried  Fresno. 

"A  little  trouble  with  one  of  his  nerve- 
centres,  that's  all.  But  even  if  it  got 
worse  during  the  night,  Covington 
could  run  the  race  for  him." 

The  Californian  started.     At  last  all 
was  plain.      He  had   doubted  from  the 
225 


first,  now  he  was  certain;  but  with 
derstanding  came  also  a  menace  to  his 
own  careful  plans.  If  Covington  ran  in 
Speed's  place,  how  could  he  effect  his 
rival's  exposure  ?  On  the  way  back  to 
the  house  he  had  to  think  rapidly. 

Mrs.  Keap  was  pacing  the  porch  as 
the  others  came  up,  and  called  Speed 
aside;  then,  when  they  were  alone, 
broke  out,  with  blazing  eyes: 

"You  said  you  had  stopped  him!" 

"And  I  thought  I  had.  I  did  my 
best." 

"But  he's  coming!  He'll  be  here  any 
minute!" 

"I  suppose  he  learned  you  were  here." 
Wally  laughed. 

"Then  you  must  have  told  him." 

"No,  I  didn't." 

"Mr.  Speed" — Roberta's  cheeks  were 
pallid  and  her  voice  trembled — "you — 
didn't — send  that  telegram — at  all." 

"Oh,  but  I  did." 

"You  wanted  him  to  get  here  in  time 
to  run  in  your  place.     I  see  it  all  now. 
You  arranged  it  very  cleverly,  but  you 
will  pay  the  penalty." 
226 


"You  surely  won't  tell  Helen?" 

4  *  This  minute!  You  wretched,  de 
ceitful  man!" 

Before  he  could  say  more,  from  the 
front  of  the  house  came  the  rattle  of 
wheels,  a  loud  "Whoa!"  then  Jean's 
voice,  crying: 

"Culver!  Culver!"  while  Mrs.  Keap 
clutched  at  her  bosom  and  moaned. 

Her  companion  bolted  into  the  house 
and  down  the  hall,  shouting  the  name 
of  his  room-mate.  Out  through  the 
front  door  he  dashed  headlong,  in  time 
to  behold  Fresno  and  the  two  girls  assist 
ing  the  new  arrival  toward  the  veranda. 
They  were  exclaiming  in  pity,  and  had 
their  arms  about  the  athlete,  for  Culver 
Covington,  Intercollegiate  One-Hundred- 
Yard  Champion,  was  hobbling  forward 
upon  a  pair  of  crutches. 

The  yell  died  in  Speed's  throat,  he  felt 
himself  grow  deadly  faint. 

"Crippled!"  he  gasped,  and  leaned 
against  the  door  for  support. 


CHAPTER  XV 


IN  a  daze,  Speed  saw  his  friend  mount 
the  porch  painfully;  in  a  daze,  he 
shook  his  hand.  Subconsciously  he 
beheld  Lawrence  Glass  come  panting 
into  view,  throw  up  his  hands  at  sight 
of  Covington,  and  cry  out  in  a  strange 
tongue.  When  he  regained  his  faculties 
he  broke  into  the  conversation  harshly. 

"What  have  you  done  to  yourself?" 

"I  broke  a  toe,"  explained  the  athlete. 

"You  broke  a  toe?" 

"He  broke  a  toe!"  wailed  Glass, 
faintly. 

"If  it's  nothing  but  a  toe,  it  won't 
hurt  your  running."  Speed  seized  eager 
ly  upon  the  faintest  hope. 

"No.  I'll  be  all  right  in  a  few  weeks." 
Covington  spoke  carelessly,  his  eyes  bent 
upon  Jean  Chapin. 

228 


" You've  g-got  to  run  to-morrow." 

"What!"  Covington  dragged  his 
glance  away  from  the  cheeks  of  his 
sweetheart. 

"I— I'm  sick.     You'll  have  to." 

"Don't  be  an  idiot,  Wally.  I  can't 
walk!" 

Helen  explained,  with  the  pride  of  one 
displaying  her  own  handiwork:  "Mr. 
Speed  defends  the  Flying  Heart  to-mor 
row.  You  are  just  in  time  to  see  him." 

"When  did  you  learn  to  box,  Wally?" 
Covington  was  genuinely  amazed. 

"I'm  not  going  to  box.  It's  a  foot 
race.  I'm  training — been  training  ever 
since  I  arrived." 

In  his  first  bewilderment  the  late 
comer  might  have  unwittingly  betrayed 
his  friend  had  not  Jean  suddenly  in 
quired  : 

"Where  is  Roberta?" 

"Roberta!"  Covington  tripped  over 
one  of  his  crutches.  "Roberta  who?" 

"Why,  Roberta  Keap,  of  course! 
She's  chaperoning  us  while  mother  is 
away." 

The  hero  of  countless  field-days  turned 
229 


pale,  and  seemed  upon  the  point  of 
hobbling  back  to  "Nigger  Mike's"  buck- 
board. 

4 'You  and  she  are  old  friends,  I 
believe?"  Helen  interposed. 

"Yes!  Oh  yes!"  Culver  flashed  his 
chum  a  look  of  dumb  entreaty,  but 
Speed  was  staring  round-eyed  into  space, 
striving  to  read  the  future. 

Helen  started  to  fetch  her  just  as  the 
pallid  chaperon  was  entering  the  door. 

She  shook  hands  with  Covington.  She 
observed  that  he  was  too  deeply  affected 
at  sight  of  her  to  speak,  and  it  awakened 
fresh  misgivings  in  her  mind. 

"H-how  d'y  do!  I  didn't  know  you 
were — here!"  he  stammered. 

"I  thought  it  would  surprise  you!" 
Roberta  smiled  wanly,  amazed  at  her 
own  self-control,  then  froze  in  her 
tracks  as  Jean  announced: 

"Jack  will  be  home  to-night,  Culver. 
He'll  be  delighted  to  see  you!" 

J.  Wallingford  Speed  offered  a  diver 
sion  by  bursting  into  a  hollow  laugh. 
Now  that  the  world  was  in  league  to 
work  his  own  downfall,  it  was  time  some 
230 


one  else  had  a  touch  of  suffering.  To  this 
end  he  inquired  how  the  toe  had  come 
to  be  broken. 

"I  broke  it  in  Omaha — automobile 
accident."  Culver  was  fighting  to  master 
himself. 

"Omaha!  Did  you  stop  in  Omaha?" 
inquired  Jean. 

"A  city  of  beautiful  women,"  Speed 
reflected,  audibly.  "Somebody  step  on 
your  foot  at  a  dance?" 

"  No,  of  course  not !  I  don't  know  any 
body  in  Omaha!  I  went  motoring — " 

"Joy-ride?" 

"Not  at  all." 

"Who  was  with  you  ?"  Miss  Chapin's 
voice  was  ominously  sweet. 

"N— nobody  I  knew." 

"Does  that  mean  that  you  were 
alone?" 

"Yes.  I  stopped  off  between  trains 
to  view  the  city,  and  took  a  'Seeing 
Omaha'  ride.  The  yap  wagon  upset, 
and — I  broke  my  toe." 

"You  left  Chicago  ten  days  ago,"  said 
Speed  accusingly. 

"Of  course,   but — when   I  broke   my 


toe  I  had  to  stay.  It's  a  beautiful  city 
— lots  of  fine  buildings." 

"How  did  you  like  the  jail?" 

"What  in  the  world  are  you  boys 
talking  about?"  queried  Miss  Blake. 

"Mr.  Speed  seems  amused  at  Culver's 
accident."  Roberta  gave  him  a  stinging 
look.  "Now  we'd  better  let  Culver  go 
to  his  room  and  freshen  up  a  bit.  I 
want  to  talk  to  you,  Helen,"  and  Speed 
drooped  at  the  meaning  behind  her 
words.  But  it  was  time  for  a  general 
conference;  events  were  shaping  them 
selves  too  rapidly  for  him  to  cope  with. 
Once  the  three  were  alone  he  lost  no  time 
in  making  his  predicament  known,  the 
while  his  friend  listened  in  amazement. 

"But  is  it  really  so  serious  ?"  the  latter 
asked,  finally. 

"It's  life  or  death.  There's  a  homi 
cidal  maniac  named  Willie  guarding  me 
daytimes,  and  a  pair  of  renegades  who 
keep  watch  at  my  window  all  night. 
The  cowboys  bathe  me  in  ice-water  to 
toughen  me,  and  feed  me  raw  meat  to 
make  me  wild.  In  every  corner  there 
lurks  an  assassin  with  orders  to  shoot  me 
232 


if  I  break  training,  every  where  I  go  some 
low-browed  criminal  feels  my  biceps, 
pinches  my  legs,  and  asks  how  my  wind 
is.  I  tell  you,  I'm  going  mad." 

"And  the  worst  part  of  it  is,"  spoke 
Glass,  sympathetically,  "they'll  bump 
me  off  first.  It's  a  pipe." 

"But,  Wally,  you  can't  run." 

"Don't  I  know  it?" 

"Don't  7?"  seconded  the  trainer. 

"Then  why  attempt  the  impossible? 
Call  the  race  off." 

"It's  too  late.  Don't  you  under 
stand?  The  bets  are  made,  and  its  'pay 
or  play.'  The  cowboys  have  mortgaged 
their  souls  on  me." 

"He  was  makin'  a  play  for  that  little 
doll—" 

"Don't  you  call  Miss  Blake  a  doll, 
Larry!  I  won't  stand  for  it!" 

"Well,  'skirt,'  then." 

"Why  don't  you  cut  it?  There's  a 
train  East  at  midnight." 

"And  leave  Helen — like  that?  Her 
faith  in  me  has  weakened  already;  she'd 
hate  me  if  I  did  that.  No!  I've  got 
to  face  it  out!" 

233 


"  They '11  be  singin'  hymns  for  both  of 
us,"  predicted  the  fat  man. 

"I  don't  care.  They  can  boil  me  in 
oil — I  won't  let  her  think  I'm  a  coward." 

"Larry  doesn't  have  to  stay." 

"Of  course  not.     He  can  escape." 

"Not  a  chance,"  said  the  trainer. 
"They  watch  me  closer  'n  they  do  him." 

Covington  considered  for  a  moment. 
"It  certainly  looks  bad,  but  perhaps  the 
other  fellow  can't  run  either.  Who  is 
he?" 

"A  cook  named  Skinner." 

"Happy  name!  Well,  two-thirds  of  a 
sprint  is  in  the  start.  How  does  Wally 
get  in  motion,  Lawrence?" 

"Like  a  sacred  ox."  Glass  could  not 
conceal  his  contempt. 

"I'll  give  him  some  pointers;  it  will 
all  help."  But  Speed  was  nervous  and 
awkward — so  awkward,  in  fact,  that  the 
coach  finally  gave  it  up  as  a  bad  job, 
saying: 

"It's  no  use,  Wally,  you've  got  fool 
feet." 

"I  have,   eh?    Well,   I  didn't  break 
them  getting  out  of  jail." 
234 


"The  less  said  about  that  jail  the 
better.  I'm  in  trouble  myself." 

Speed  might  have  explained  that  his 
chum's  dilemma  was  by  no  means  so 
serious  as  he  imagined,  had  not  watch 
man  Willie  thrust  his  head  through  the 
open  window  at  that  moment  with  the 
remark : 

"Time  to  get  busy!" 

"We'll  be  right  with  you!"  Glass 
seized  his  protege  by  the  arm  and  bore 
him  away,  muttering:  "Stick  it  out, 
brother,  we're  nearin'  the  end!" 

Again  Speed  donned  his  running-suit 
and  took  to  the  road  for  his  farewell 
practise.  Again  Willie  followed  at  a 
distance  on  horseback,  watching  the 
hills  warily.  But  all  hope  had  fled  from 
the  Yale  man  now,  and  he  returned  to 
his  training-quarters  disheartened,  re 
signed. 

He  was  not  resigned,  however,  to  the 
visit  he  received  later  from  Miss  Helen 
Blake.  That  young  lady  rushed  in  upon 
him  like  a  miniature  cyclone,  sweeping 
him  oft  his  feet  by  the  fury  of  her  de 
nunciation,  allowing  him  no  opportunity 

16  235 


to  speak,  until,  with  a  half -sob,  she  de 
manded  : 

"Why — why  did  you  deceive  me?" 

"I  love  you!"  Wally  said,  as  if  no 
further  explanation  were  necessary. 

"That  explains  nothing.  You  made 
sport  of  me !  You  couldn't  love  me  and 
do  that!" 

"Helen!" 

'  *  I  thought  you  were  so  fine,  so  strong, 
but  you  lied — yes,  that  is  what  you  did! 
You  fibbed  to  me  the  first  day  I  met  you, 
and  you've  been  fibbing  ever  since.  I 
could  never,  never  care  for  a  man  who 
would  do  that." 

"Who  has  told  you  these  things?" 

"Roberta,  for  one.  She  opened  my 
eyes  to  your — baseness." 

"Well,  Roberta  has  a  grudge  against 
my  sex.  She's  engaged  to  all  the  men 
she  hasn't  already  married.  Marriage 
is  a  habit  with  her.  It  has  made  her 
suspicious — " 

"But  you  did  deceive  me,  didn't  you ?" 

"Will  you  marry  me?"  asked  J.  Wall- 
ingford  Speed. 

"The  idea!"  Miss  Blake  gasped. 
236 


"Will  you?" 

"Please  don't  speak  that  way.  When 
a  man  cares  for  a  woman,  he  doesn't 
deceive  her— he  tells  her  everything. 
You  told  me  you  were  a  great  runner, 
and  I  believed  you.  I'll  never  believe 
you  again.  Of  course,  I  shall  behave  to 
you  in  a  perfectly  friendly  manner,  but 
underneath  the  surface  I  shall  be  con 
sumed  with  indignation."  Miss  Blake 
commenced  to  be  consumed.  "See! 
You  don't  acknowledge  your  perfidy 


even  now." 


"What's  the  use  ?  If  I  said  I  couldn't 
run,  and  then  beat  the  cook,  you'd  be 
lieve  I  deceived  you  again.  And  suppose 
that  I  can't  beat  him?" 

"Then  I  shall  know  they  have  told 
me  the  truth." 

"And  if,  on  the  other  hand,  I  should 
win»_Miss  Blake's  eyes  fell— "Helen, 
would  you  marry  me?"  Speed  started 
toward  her,  but  she  had  fled  out  into 
the  twilight. 

Dusk  was  settling  over  stretches  of 
purple  land,  and  already  the  room  was 
237 


peopled  by  shadows.  Work  was  over; 
there  were  sounds  of  cheerful  prepara 
tions  for  supper;  from  the  house  came 
faint  chords  of  laughter;  a  Spanish  song 
floated  in,  as  Carara  told  his  love  to  the 
tune  of  Mariedetta's  guitar: 

1 '  Adios!  adios!  adids  >  por  siempre, 

Adios!  coqueta,  mi  amor; 

Adios!  adids!  adids!  por  siempre, 

Adios f  coqueta,  mi  amor/' ' 

It  was  the  hush  that  precedes  the 
evening  as  it  does  the  dawn;  the  hour 
of  reverie,  in  which  all  music  is  sweet, 
and  forgotten  faces  arise  to  haunt. 

Speed  stood  where  the  girl  had  left 
him,  miserable,  hopeless,  helpless;  the 
words  of  the  Spanish  song  seemed  sung 
for  a  lost  love  of  his.  And  certainly  his 
love  was  lost.  He  had  stayed  on  in  the 
stubborn  superstitious  belief  that  some 
thing  would  surely  happen  to  relieve 
him  from  his  predicament- — fortune  had 
never  failed  him  before — and  instead, 
every  day,  every  incident,  had  served  to 
involve  him  deeper.  Now  she  knew !  It 
was  her  golden  heart  that  had  held  her 
238 


true  thus  far,  but  could  any  devotion 
survive  the  sight  of  humiliation  such  as  he 
would  suffer  on  the  morrow?  Already 
he  heard  the  triumphant  jeers  of  the 
Centipede  henchmen,  the  angry  clamor 
of  the  Flying  Heart,  the  mocking  laugh 
ter  of  his  rival. 

He  groaned  aloud.  Forsooth,  a 
broken  toe !  Of  all  the  countless  tens  of 
thousands  of  toes  in  Christendom,  the 
one  he  had  hung  his  salvation  upon  had 
proven  weaker  than  a  reed.  What  cruel 
jest  of  Fate  was  this?  If  Fate  had 
wished  to  break  a  toe,  why  had  she  not 
selected,  out  of  all  the  billions  at  her 
disposal,  that  of  some  other  athlete  than 
Culver  Covington — even  his  own. 

J.  Wallingford  Speed  started  suddenly 
and  paled.  He  had  remembered  that 
no  one  could  force  a  crippled  man  to  run. 

"By  Jove,"  he  exclaimed,  "Til  do  it!" 

He  crossed  quickly  to  the  bunk-house 
door  and  looked  in.  The  room  was 
empty.  The  supper -bell  pealed  out, 
and  he  heard  the  cow-men  answer  it. 
Now  was  the  appointed  moment;  he 
might  have  no  other.  With  cat-like  tread 
239 


he  slipped  into  the  sleeping-quarters,  re 
turning  in  a  moment  with  a  revolver. 
He  stared  thankfully  at  the  weapon — 
better  this  than  dishonor. 

"Why  didn't  I  think  of  it  before? 
It's  perfectly  simple.  I'll  accidentally 
shoot  myself — in  the  foot." 

But  even  as  he  gazed  at  the  gun  he 
saw  that  the  muzzle  was  as  large  as  a 
gopher-hole.  A  bullet  of  that  size  would 
sink  a  ship,  he  meditated  in  a  panic,  and 
as  for  his  foot — what  frightful  execution 
it  would  work!  But — it  were  better  to 
lose  a  foot  than  a  foot-race,  under  pres 
ent  conditions,  so  he  began  to  unlace 
his  shoe.  Then  realizing  the  value 
of  circumstantial  evidence,  he  paused. 
No!  His  disability  must  bear  all  the 
earmarks  of  an  accident.  He  must  guess 
the  location  of  his  smallest  and  least 
important  toe,  and  trust  the  rest  to  his 
marksmanhsip.  Visions  of  blood-poison 
ing  beset  him,  and  when  he  pressed  the 
muzzle  against  the  point  of  his  shoe  his 
hand  shook  with  such  a  palsy  that  he 
feared  he  might  miss.  He  steeled  himself 
with  the  thought  that  other  men  had 
240 


snuffed  out  life  itself  in  this  manner, 
then  sat  down  upon  the  floor  and  cocked 
the  weapon  a  second  time.  He  won 
dered  if  the  shock  might,  by  any  chance, 
numb  him  into  unconsciousness.  If  so, 
he  might  bleed  to  death  before  assistance 
arrived.  But  he  had  nothing  to  do 
with  that.  The  only  question  was, 
which  foot.  He  regarded  them  both 
tenderly.  They  were  nice  feet,  and 
had  done  him  many  favors.  He  loved 
every  toe;  they  were  almost  like  in 
nocent  children.  It  was  a  dastardly 
deed  to  take  advantage  of  them  thus, 
but — he  advanced  the  revolver  until  it 
pressed  firmly  against  the  outside  of  his 
left  foot,  then  closed  his  eyes,  and 
called  upon  his  courage.  There  came 
a  great  roaring  in  his  ears. 

How  long  he  sat  thus  waiting  for  the 
explosion  he  did  not  know,  but  he 
opened  his  eyes  at  length  to  find  the 
foot  still  intact,  and  the  muzzle  of  the 
weapon  pointing  directly  at  his  instep. 
He  altered  his  aim  hurriedly,  when, 
241 


without  warning  of  any  sort,  a  man's 
figure  appeared  silhouetted  against  the 
window. 

The  figure  dropped  noiselessly  to  the 
floor  inside  the  room,  and  cried,  in  a 
strange  voice: 

"Lock  those  doors!    Quick!" 

Finding  that  it  was  no  hallucination, 
Speed  rose,  calling  out: 

''Who  are  you?" 

1  *  Sh-h-h ! ' '  The  stranger  darted  across 
the  room  and  bolted  both  doors,  while 
the  other  felt  a  chill  of  apprehension  at 
these  sinister  precautions.  He  grasped 
his  revolver  firmly  while  his  heart 
thumped.  The  fellow's  appearance  was 
anything  but  reassuring :  he  was  swarthy 
and  sun-browned,  his  clothes  were  ragged, 
his  overalls  were  patched;  instead  of  a 
coat,  he  wore  a  loosely  flapping  vest  over 
a  black  sateen  shirt,  long  since  rusted 
out  to  a  nondescript  brown. 

"I've  been  trying  to  get  to  you  for  a 
week,"  announced  the  mysterious  visitor 
hoarsely. 

"W-what  do  you  want?  Who  are 
you?" 

242 


"I'm  Skinner,  cook  for  the  Centipede." 

" The  man  I  race?" 

"Not  so  loud."  Skinner  was  training 
for  the  faintest  sound  from  the  direction 
of  the  mess-house. 

"I'll  kill  him!"  exulted  the  Eastern 
lad.  But  the  other  forestalled  a  murder 
by  running  on,  rapidly: 

' '  Listen,  now !  Humpy  and  I  jobbed  this 
gang  last  month;  we're  pardners,  see? 
He's  got  another  race  framed  at  Poca- 
tello,  and  I  want  to  make  a  get-away — " 

"Yes!  yes!  y-you  needn't  stay  here — 
on  my  account." 

"Now  don't  let's  take  any  chances 
to-morrow,  see  ?  We're  both  out  for  the 
coin.  What  do  you  want  to  do — win  or 
lose  ?"  Skinner  jumped  back  to  the  door 
and  listened. 

"What?" 

"Don't  stall!"  the  stranger  cried,  im 
patiently.  "Will  I  win  or  will  you? 
What's  it  worth  ?"  He  clipped  his  words 
short,  his  eyes  darted  furtive  glances 
here  and  there. 

"Can  /  win?"  gasped  Speed. 

"You  can  if  there's  enough  in  it  for 
243 


me.     I'm  broke,  see  ?    You  bet  five  hun 
dred,  and  we'll  cut  it  two  ways." 

"I — I  haven't  that  much  with  me." 

"Borrow  it.  Don't  be  a  boob.  Meet 
me  in  Albuquerque  Sunday,  and  we'll 
split  there." 

"Is  that  all  I  ha  veto  do?" 

"Certainly.  What's  the  matter  with 
you,  any  how?"  Skinner  cast  a  suspicious 
glance  at  his  companion. 

"I — I  guess  I'm  rattled — it's  all  so 
sudden." 

"Of  course  you'll  have  to  run  fast 
enough  so  we  don't  tip  off." 

"How  fast  is  that?" 

"Oh,  ten-four,"  carelessly.  "That's 
what  Humpy  and  I  did." 

"Ten  and  four-fifths — seconds?1' 

"Certainly.  Don't  kid  me!  They're 
liable  to  break  in  on  us."  Skinner 
stepped  to  the  window,  but  Speed  halted 
him  with  a  trembling  hand  and  a  voice 
of  agony. 

"Mr.  Skinner,  I — I  can't  run  that 
fast.  F-fifteen  is  going  some  for  me." 

"What!"  Skinner  stared  at  his  op 
ponent  strangely. 

344 


"That's  right.     I'm  a  lemon." 

"Ain't  you  the  Yale  champ?  The 
guy  that  goes  under  'even  time'  ?" 

Wally  shook  his  head.  "I'm  his 
chum.  I  couldn't  catch  a  cramp." 

The  brown  face  of  the  Centipede 
sprinter  split  into  a  grin,  his  eyes 
gleamed.  "Then  I'll  win,"  said  he.  "I'm 
the  sucker,  but  I'll  make  good.  Get 
your  money  down,  and  I'll  split  with 
you." 

"No,  no!  Not  you!  Me!  I  must  win!" 
Speed  clutched  his  caller  desperately. 

"All  right,  I'll  frame  anything;  but 
I  can't  run  any  slower  than  I  did  with 
Joe  and  make  a  live  of  it.  They'd 
shoot  us  both." 

"But  there's  a  girl  in  this — a  girl  I 
love.  It  means  more  than  mere  life." 

Skinner  was  plainly  becoming  nervous 
at  the  length  of  the  interview. 

"Couldn't  you  fall  down?"  inquired 
the  younger  man,  timidly. 

The     cook     laughed    derisively.     "I 

could  fall  down  twice  and  beat  you  in 

fifteen."     After    an    instant's    thought: 

"Say,  there's  one  chance,  if  we  don't  run 

245 


straight  away.  There's  a  corral  out 
where  we  race;  you  insist  on  running 
around  it,  see?  There's  nothing  in  the 
articles  about  straightaways.  That  '11 
kid  'em  on  the  time.  If  I  get  too  far 
ahead,  I'll  fall  down." 

"B-but  will  you  stay  down?  Till  I 
catch  up?" 

"Sure!    Leave  it  to  me." 

"You  won't  forget,  or  anything  like 
that?" 

"Certainly  not.  But  no  rough  work 
in  front  of  the  cowboys,  understand? 
Sh-h!" 

Skinner  vaulted  lightly  through  the 
window,  landing  in  the  dirt  outside 
without  a  sound.  "Somebody  coming," 
he  whispered.  "Understand:  Merchants' 
Hotel,  Albuquerque,  noon,  Sunday." 
And  the  next  instant  he  had  vanished 
into  the  dusk,  leaving  behind  him  a 
youth  half  hysterical  with  hope. 

Out  of  the  blackest  gloom  had  come  J. 
Wallingford  Speed's  deliverance,  and  he 
did  not  pause  to  consider  the  ethics  in 
volved.  If  he  had  he  would  have  told 
himself  that  by  Skinner's  own  confession 
246 


the  Centipede  had  won  through  fraud  at 
the  first  race;  if  they  were  paid  back  in 
their  own  coin  now  it  would  be  no  more 
than  tardy  justice.  With  light  heart  he 
hastened  to  replace  the  borrowed  re 
volver  in  the  bunk-room  just  as  voices 
coming  nearer  betokened  the  arrival  of 
his  friends  from  the  house.  As  he  step 
ped  out  into  the  night  he  came  upon 
Jack  Chapin. 

"Hello,  Wally!" 

"Hello,  Jack!"  They  shook  hands, 
while  the  owner  of  the  Flying  Heart  con 
tinued. 

"I've  just  got  in,  and  they've  been 
telling  me  about  this  foot-race.  What 
in  the  deuce  is  the  matter  with  you, 
anyhow?  Why  didn't  you  let  me 
know?" 

The  girls  drew  closer,  and  Speed  saw 
that  Miss  Blake  was  pale. 

"I  wouldn't  have  allowed  it  for  a 
minute.  Now,  of  course,  I'm  going  to 
call  it  off." 

"Oh,  Jack,  dear,  you  simply  can't!" 
exclaimed  his  sister.     "You've  no  idea 
the  state  the  boys  are  in." 
247 


"They'll  never  let  you,  Chapin,"  sup 
plemented  Fresno. 

The  master  laughed  shortly.  "They 
won't,  eh?  Who  is  boss  here,  I'd  like 
to  know?" 

"They've  bet  a  lot  of  money.  And 
you  know  how  they  feel  about  that 
phonograph." 

"It's  the  most  idiotic  thing  I  ever 
heard  of.  Whatever  possessed  you, 
Wally?  If  the  men  make  a  row,  I'll 
have  to  smuggle  you  and  Glass  over  to 
the  railroad  to-night." 

"I'm  for  that,"  came  the  voice  of 
Larry. 

"I  suppose  it's  all  my  fault,"  Miss 
Blake  began  wretchedly,  whereat  the 
object  of  their  general  solicitude  took 
on  an  aspect  of  valor. 

"Say,  what  is  all  this  fuss  about? 
I  don't  want  to  be  smuggled  anywhere, 
thank  you!" 

"I  may  not  be  able  to  square  my 
men,"  Chapin  reiterated.  "It  may  have 
gone  too  far." 

"Square!  Square!  Why  should  you 
do  any  squaring?  I'm  not  going  to  run 
248 


away."  Miss  Blake  clasped  her  hands 
and  breathed  a  sigh.  "I've  got  to  stay 
here  and  run  a  foot-race  to-morrow." 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Wally!"  Coving- 
ton  added  his  voice  to  the  others. 

Speed  whirled  angrily.  "I  don't  need 
your  advice — convict!"  The  champion 
hobbled  hastily  out  of  range.  "I  know 
what  I'm  doing.  I'm  going  to  run  to 
morrow,  and  I  stand  a  good  chance  to 
win." 

Mr.  Fresno,  if  he  had  been  a  girl,  would 
have  been  said  to  have  giggled. 

"All  right,  Dearie!  I'll  bet  you  five 
hundred  dollars — "  as  there  emerged  from 
the  darkness,  whence  they  had  approach 
ed  unseen,  Stover,  and  behind  him  the 
other  men. 

"Evenin'!  What's  all  the  excite 
ment?"  greeted  the  leader,  softly. 

The  master  of  the  ranch  stepped 
forward. 

"See  here,  Bill,  I'm  sorry,  but  I  won't 
stand  for  this  foot-race." 

"Why  not?"  queried  the  foreman. 

"I  just  won't,  that's  all.  You'll  have 
to  call  it  off." 

249 


•Tm  sorry,  too." 

"You  refuse?"  The  owner  spoke 
ominously. 

"You  bet  he  does!"  Willie  pushed 
himself  forward.  "This  foot-race  is 
ordained,  and  it  comes  off  on  time.  I 
make  bold  to  inquire  if  you're  talkin' 
for  our  runner?" 

' '  Gentlemen,  I  can  only  say  to  you  that 
for  myself  I  want  to  run !"  declared  Speed. 

"Then  you'll  run." 

"I  refuse  to  allow  it,"  Chapin  de 
clared,  and  instantly  there  was  an  angry 
murmur;  but  before  it  could  take  de 
finite  form,  Speed  spoke  up  with  equal 
decisiveness. 

"You  can't  refuse  to  let  me  run, 
Jack.  There  are  reasons  " — he  searched 
Miss  Blake's  countenance — "why  I  must 
run — and  win.  And  win  I  shall!"  Turn 
ing,  he  stalked  away  into  the  darkness, 
and  there  followed  him  a  shout  of  ap 
probation  from  the  ranchmen. 

Jack  Chapin  threw  up  his  hands. 

"I've  done  my  best." 

"The  man's  mad!"  cried  Covington, 
but  Fresno  was  nearer  the  truth. 
250 


••Nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  remarked, 
and  struck  a  match;  "he's  bluffing!'1 

As  for  Helen  Blake,  she  shook  her  fair 
head  and  smiled  into  the  night. 

"You  are  all  wrong,"  she  said.  "7 
know!" 

17 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  day  of  the  race  dawned  bright 
and  fair,  without  a  cloud  to  mar 
its  splendor.  As  the  golden  morning 
wore  on,  a  gradual  excitement  became 
apparent  among  the  cowboys,  increasing 
as  the  hours  passed,  and  as  they  pre 
pared  with  joy  to  invade  their  rival's 
territory;  nevertheless,  the  vigilant  watch 
upon  their  champion  did  not  relax. 
Theirs  was  an  attitude  of  confidence 
tinged  with  caution. 

It  was  some  time  after  midnight  that 
Lawrence  Glass  had  been  the  cause  of  a 
wild  alarm  that  brought  the  denizens 
of  the  ranch  out  in  night  apparel.  Jack 
Chapin,  awakened  by  a  cry  for  help,  had 
found  him  in  the  hands  of  Carara  and 
Cloudy,  who  had  been  doing  night  duty 
in  accordance  with  Stover's  orders. 
What  with  the  trainer's  loud  complaints, 
252 


the  excited  words  of  his  captors,  and  the 
confusion  resulting  when  the  bunk-house 
emptied  itself  of  men  half  clad,  it  had 
taken  the  ranch-owner  some  time  to  dis 
cover  that  Glass  had  been  surprised  in 
the  act  of  escaping.  It  seemed  that  the 
sentries,  seeing  a  figure  skulking  past  the 
white  adobe  walls  of  the  house,  had  call 
ed  upon  it  to  halt.  There  had  been  -i 
dash  for  liberty,  then  a  furious  struggle 
before  the  intruder's  identity  became 
clear,  and  but  for  Chapin's  prompt 
arrival  upon  the  scene  violence  would  in 
evitably  have  resulted.  As  it  was,  the 
owner  had  difficulty  in  restraining  his 
men,  who  saw  in  this  significant  effort  a 
menace  to  their  hopes. 

"I  tell  you,  I'm  walkin'  in  my  sleep," 
declared  Glass  for  the  twentieth  time. 

"Caramba!     You    try    for    get    away," 
stormed  the  Mexican.    'Tig!" 

"Not  a  bit  like  it!     I've  been  a  son- 
nambulust  ever  since  I'm  a  baby." 

"Why    didn't    you    answer    when    we 
called?"  Cloudy  demanded. 

"How    can    I    talk    when    I'm    sound 
asleep  ?" 

253 


c<If  you  couldn't  hear  us  call,  why 
did  you  run?" 

"Now  have  a  little  sense,  pal.  A 
sleep  -  walker  don't  know  what  he's 
doin'." 

"Since  there's  no  harm  done,  you'd 
6etter  all  go  back  to  bed,"  Chapin  ad 
vised.  "Mr.  Glass  has  the  liberty  of 
the  ranch,  boys,  night  or  day,  asleep  or 
awake." 

"Looks  to  me  like  he  was  tryin'  to 
elope  some."  Stover  balanced  upon  one 
bare  foot,  and  undertook  to  remove  a 
sand-burr  from  the  other.  In  the  dark 
ness  he  seemed  supernaturally  tall,  so 
that  Glass  hastened  to  strengthen  his 
story. 

"I  was  walkin'  in  my  sleep  as  nice 
as  you  please  when  those  rummies  lep' 
on  me.  Say!  You  know  that's  danger 
ous;  you  can  kill  a  guy  wakin'  him  up 
so  sudden." 

"There's  easier  ways  than  that,"  spoke 
Willie  from  the  gloom. 

"  It's  a  yap  trick  just  the  same.  I  was 
in  the  middle  of  a  swell  dream,  too." 

"Come,  come,  Stover,  get  your  boys 
254 


back  to  bed!  We'll  have  the  whole 
ranch  up  with  this  noise." 

Chapin  himself  led  Glass  around  the 
house,  while  that  gentleman  made  no 
offer  to  explain  the  dream  which  had 
prompted  him  to  pack  his  suit-case  before 
letting  himself  out  of  the  training- 
quarters.  Once  safely  back  in  the  gym 
nasium,  he  sat  up  till  dawn,  a  prey  to 
frightful  visions  which  the  comfortable 
morning  light  did  not  serve  to  dissipate. 

Wally  Speed  slept  serenely  through 
the  whole  disturbance,  and  was  greatly 
amused  at  the  story  when  he  awoke.  He 
was  sorely  tempted  to  make  known  his 
agreement  with  Skinner,  and  put  an 
end  to  his  trainer's  agony  of  mind;  but 
he  recalled  Skinner's  caution,  and  re 
flected  that  the  slightest  indiscretion 
might  precipitate  a  tragedy.  For  the 
first  time  since  the  beginning  of  the 
adventure  he  was  perfectly  at  ease,  and 
the  phenomenon  added  to  his  trainer's 
dismay. 

Others  beside  Lawrence  Glass  were  ap 
prehensive.  Culver  Covington,  for  in 
stance,  was  plainly  upset,  whik  Roberta 
255 


Keap  pleaded  headache  and  had  her 
breakfast  served  in  her  room. 

It  was  shortly  afterward  that  she  ap 
peared  in  the  gymnasium  doorway,  and 
cried,  in  an  accusing  voice : 

"Well,  Mr.  Speed!" 

"Yes,  quite  well." 

"You  traitor!" 

"You  modern  Borgia!  Didn't  you  go 
and  tell  Helen  everything?" 

"Didn't  you  promise  to  stop  Culver?" 

"I  did.  I  had  him  thrown  in  jail  at 
Omaha.  What  more  could  I  do?" 

"You  did  try?  Honestly?"  Mrs. 
Keap  allowed  her  indignation  to  abate 
slightly.  "If  I  had  known  that,  I 
wouldn't  have  told  Helen.  I'm  sorry 
you  didn't  explain.  I  was  angry — 
furious.  And  I  was  frightened  so!"  She 
broke  down  suddenly.  "What  shall  I 
do  about  them?  I  can  see  what  they 
want  to  say,  and  yet  I  daren't  let  either 
speak  a  word." 

"Mrs.  Keap,  are  you  sure  Culver  loves 
you?" 

"Horribly!  And  he  suspects  the  truth. 
I  saw  him  change  the  moment  he  found 
256 


me  here."  Roberta  began  to  weep ;  two 
limpid  tears  stole  down  her  cheeks,  she 
groped  for  a  chair,  and  Wally  hastened 
to  her  assistance.  As  he  supported  her, 
she  gave  way  completely  and  bowed 
her  head  upon  his  shoulder. 

It  was  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  luck 
of  things  that  Miss  Blake  should  enter 
at  the  moment.  She  had  come  with 
Jack  and  his  sister  to  inquire  regarding 
the  fitness  of  her  champion  and  to  nerve 
him  for  the  contest,  and  she  stood 
aghast.  Chapin  stepped  forward  with  a 
look  of  suspicion,  inquiring: 

"What's  going  on  here?" 

Miss  Blake  spoke  brightly,  tinkling  ice 
in  her  voice. 

"There's  no  necessity  for  an  explana 
tion,  is  there?  It  seems  time  for  con 
gratulations." 

"Oh,  see  here  now!  Mrs.  Keap's 
really  engaged  to  Culver,  you  know." 

"Culver!" 

"Culver!" 

Both  the  young  ranchman  and  his 
sister  stared  at  the  chaperon  with  grow 
ing  horror,  while  she  undertook  to  ex- 
257 


plain ;  but  the  blow  had  fallen  so  swiftly 
that  her  words  were  incoherent,  and  in 
the  midst  of  them  her  hostess  turned  and 
fled  from  the  room. 

"Now  don't  begin  to  aviate  until  you 
understand  the  truth,"  Speed  continued. 
"While  she's  engaged  to  that  broken- 
toed  serpent,  she  doesn't  love  him,  do 
you  see?"  He  smiled. 

"I  do  not  see!" 

"It  was  simply  a  habit  Mrs.  Keap  had 
got  into — I  should  say  it  was  an  im 
pulsive  engagement  that  she  has  re 
pented  of." 

"No  doubt  she  was  repenting  when 
we  interrupted  you,"  said  Miss  Blake, 
bitterly. 

Then  Chapin  added,  helplessly:  "But 
Culver  is  engaged  to  my  sister  Jean!" 

"Jean!"  Mrs.  Keap  exposed  her 
tragic  face.  "Then — he  deceived  me! 
Oh — h!  What  wretches  men  are!"  The 
widow  commenced  to  sob. 

Outside  came  Miss  Chapin's  voice: 
"So  here  you  are,  Mr.  Covington!"  And 
the  next  moment  she  reappeared,  drag 
ging  the  crippled  champion  behind  her. 
258 


Thrusting  him  toward  Roberta,  she  pout 
ed:  "There,  Mrs.  Keap!  I  give  him  back 
to  you." 

"Perhaps  you'd  better  go  on  with 
your  explanations,"  Chapin  suggested, 
coldly,  to  Speed. 

"How  can  I  when  you  won't  listen  to 
me?  Hear  ye!  Hear  ye!  Culver  was 
engaged  to  marry  Mrs.  Keap,  but  she 
discovered  what  a  reprobate  he  is — " 

There  was  indistinguishable  dissent  of 
some  sort  from  Mr.  Covington. 

14 — and  she  learned  to  detest  him!" 

Mrs.  Keap  likewise  dissented  in  accents 
muffled. 

"Well,  she  wouia  have  learned  to  de 
test  him  in  a  short  time,  because  she's 
in  love  with  Jack  Chapin ;  so  she  came 
to  old  Doctor  Speed  in  her  troubles, 
and  he  promised  to  fix  it  all  up.  Now 
I  guess  you  four  can  do  the  rest  of  the 
explaining.  Let  this  be  a  lesson  to  all  of 
you.  If  you  ever  get  in  trouble,  come 
to  the  match-making  kid.  I'll  square 
it." 

They  were  four  happy  young  people, 
and  they  lost  no  time  in  escaping  else- 
259 


where.  When  they  had  gone,  their  bene 
factor  said  to  Miss  Blake: 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  make  that  a 
triple  wedding?  We  might  get  club 
rates." 

For  answer  Miss  Blake  hurried  to  the 
door  and  was  gone. 

Over  at  the  Centipede  there  was  a 
great  activity  and  yet  a  certain  idleness 
also,  as  if  it  had  been  a  holiday.  The 
men  hung  about  in  groups  listening  to 
the  peripatetic  phonograph.  A  dozen 
or  more  outsiders  had  ridden  over  from 
the  post-office  to  witness  the  contest. 
Out  by  the  corral,  which  stood  close  to 
the  first  break  of  the  foot-hills,  Skinner 
wras  superintending  the  laying  out  of  a 
course,  selecting  a  stretch  of  level  ground 
worn  smooth  and  hard  by  the  tread  of 
countless  hoofs. 

"Makes  a  pretty  good  track,  eh?"  he 
said  to  Gallagher.  "I  wonder  how  fast 
this  feller  is?  Ever  heard?" 

"They  seem  to  think  he's  a  whirlin' 
ball  of  fire,  but  that  don't  worry  you 
none,  does  it  ?"  Gallagher  bent  his  lead- 
260 


blue  eyes  upon  the  cook,  who  shrugged 
carelessly,  and  Gallagher  smiled;  he  was 
forced  to  admit  that  his  man  did  not  ap 
pear  to  be  one  easily  frightened.  Skin 
ner's  face  was  hard,  his  lips  thin,  his  jaw 
was  not  that  of  a  weakling.  He  had 
dressed  early,  then  wrapped  a  horse- 
blanket  about  his  shoulders,  and  now, 
casting  this  aside,  sprinted  down  the  dirt 
track  for  a  few  yards  to  test  the  footing, 
while  Gallagher  watched  him  with  satis 
faction — a  thing  of  steel  and  wire,  as 
tough,  as  agile,  and  as  spirited  as  a  range- 
raised  cow-pony.  He  was  unshaven,  his 
running -trunks  were  cut  from  a  pair  of 
overalls,  held  up  at  the  waist  by  a  sec 
tion  of  window-cord,  and  his  chest  was 
scantily  covered  by  an  undershirt  from 
which  the  sleeves  had  been  pulled.  But 
when  he  returned  to  pick  up  his  blanket 
Gallagher  noted  approvingly  that  he  was 
not  even  breathing  heavily.  With  a 
knowledge  confined  mainly  to  live-stock, 
the  foremen  inquried: 

"How's  your  laigs?     I  like  to  see  'em 
hairy,  that-a-way;  it's  a  sign  of  stren'th. 
I  bet  this  college  boy  is  as  pink  as  a 
261 


maiden's  palm!  He  don't  look  to  me  like 
he  could  run." 

"They  fool  you  sometimes,"  said  Skin 
ner.  ' '  By  -  the  -  way ,  what  have  you 
bet?" 

"We  laid  the  phonograph  agin  their 
treasures  an'  trappin's — " 

"But  how  much  money?" 

"We  got  three  hundred  pesos  down, 
but  they  sent  word  they  was  comin' 
loaded  for  b'ar,  so  we  rustled  five  hun 
dred  more." 

Skinner's  eyes  gleamed.  "I  wish  I 
had  a  couple  of  hundred  to  bet  on  my 
self." 

"Broke,  eh?" 

"I'm  as  clean  as  a  hound's  tooth." 

"I'm  sorry  y'all  tossed  off  your  wages, 
but" — Gallagher  started  suspiciously — 
"say!  I  reckon  that  won't  affect  your 
runnin'  none,  will  it?" 

Skinner  admitted  that  he  could  run 
best  when  he  had  something  to  run  for. 
"You  might  advance  me  a  month's 
wages,"  he  reflected. 

"I'll  do  it.  Hello!  Say,  ain't  that 
one  of  them  Flyin'  Heart  city  visitors?" 
262 


From  the  direction  of  the  ranch  buildings 
Berkeley  Fresno  was  approaching. 

1  'Good  -  afternoon!  You  are  Mr. 
Gallagher,  I  believe?  I  rode  over  with 
our  crowd  just  now."  Fresno  looked 
back.  "Let's  step  around  to  the  other 
side  of  the  corral ;  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 
He  led  the  way;  then  inquired,  "Is  this 
your  runner?" 

"That's  him.  His  name's  Skinner, 
and  that's  a  promisin'  title  to  bet  on." 
Gallagher  slipped  a  roll  of  bank-notes 
from  his  pocket.  "Unhook!  I'll  bet 
you." 

"No,  no!  I  think  myself  Mr.  Skin 
ner  will  win.  That's  why  I'm  here." 

"Strip  your  hand,  son.  I  don't 
savvy." 

And  Fresno  explained. 

"You  see,  I'm  a  guest  over  there;  but 
there's  no  sentiment  with  me  in  money 
matters."  He  produced  a  wallet,  and 
took  from  it  five  one-hundred-dollar  bills. 
"Bet  this  for  me,  and  don't  let  on  where 
it  came  from.  I'll  see  you  after  the  race. 
Mind  you,  not  a  word!" 

"I'm  dumb  as  the  Egyptian  Spinks." 
263  ' 


"This  race  means  a  lot  to  me,  Mr. 
Skinner. ' '  The  guest  of  the  Flying  Heart 
Ranch  turned  to  its  enemy.  "There's  a 
girl  in  it.  Understand?"  The  cook 
showed  the  gleam  of  his  teeth.  "If  you 
win,  I'll  send  you  some  wedding-cake 
and — a  box  of  cigars." 

"Thanks,"  said  the  other;  "but  I've 
got  a  bum  tooth,  and  I  don't  smoke." 

As  Fresno  left,  there  approached,  in  a 
surging  group,  the  opposing  side. 

"Good-evenin',  Gabby!"  Stover  called, 
loudly,  as  he  came  within  speaking  dis 
tance.  "Here  we  come  en  massay,  and 
with  ladies,  to  further  embarrass  and 
degrade  you  in  the  hour  of  your  de 
feat!" 

"We  ain't  defeated  yit!  How  do, 
Mr.  Chapin." 

"Did  you  get  our  message?" 

"Yes.  But  we  ain't  seen  the  color 
of  y 'all's  money." 

"Mr.  Speed  borrowed  five  hundred 
dollars  from  me,  and  said  he  might  want 
more,"  Chapin  volunteered. 

"Is  that  all?" 

"All?"  jeered  Still  Bill.  "Why,  this 
264 


mangy  layout  ain't  never  saw  that  much 
money,"  upon  which  Gallagher  care 
lessly  displayed  a  corpulent  roll  of  bills, 
remarking: 

"Count  a  thousand,  Bill.  It  all  goes 
on  Skinner." 

"I  ain't  heard  of  no  train-robbery," 
muttered  the  lanky  foreman  of  the  Fly 
ing  Heart,  "nor  I  don't  aim  to  handle 
no  tainted  money."  And  Stover  and 
Gallagher  faced  each  other  hard  before 
turning. 

Jean  saw  it,  and  whispered  to  Chapin : 
"Oh,  Jack  dear,  I'm  terribly  frightened!" 
But  Helen  Blake,  who  overheard,  left  her 
companions  and  went  straight  to  Gal 
lagher. 

"I  should  like,"  she  said,  "to  wager  a 
few  dollars  on  Mr.  Speed  and  the  honor 
of  the  Flying  Heart." 

Both  Skinner  and  his  foreman  stared 
at  her  nonplussed. 

"You  don't  look  like  a  bettin'  lady," 
the  latter  managed  to  remark,  jocularly. 

"I'm  not,  I  never  made  a  wager  before 
in  all  my  life ;  but  you  see,  Mr.  Gallagher, 
I  believe  in  our  man." 
265 


Gallagher  lowered  his  eyes.  "How 
much  do  you  aim  to  risk,  miss?" 

"I  don't  know  what  the  rules  are,  but 
I  think  our  side  ought  to  bet  as  much  as 
your  side.  That  is  the  way  it  is  done, 
isn't  it?" 

"You  mean  that  you  aim  to  cover 
what  Mr.  Speed  don't?"  The  girl 
nodded. 

Gallagher  spoke  admiringly.  "You're 
right  game,  miss,  but  I  reckon  we  don't 
want  your  money." 

"Why  not?" 

"I  suppose  there  ain't  no  partic'lar 
reason." 

"If  Mr.  Speed  can  beat  Mr.  Coving- 
ton,  who  is  the  beet  runner  at  Yale, 
I'm  sure  he  can  defeat  Mr.  Skinner,  who 
never  went  to  college  at  all.  They  have 
all  turned  against  him,  and  he — he  is  so 
brave!"  Miss  Blake's  indignation  was 
tearful,  and  Gallagher  spoke  hurriedly: 

"He  may  be  brave  all  right,  miss, 
but  he  can't  win  unless  Skinner  dies. 
You  save  your  money  to  buy  chocolates 
an*  bon-mots,  miss.  Why,  listen"  (the 
stock  man  softened  his  voice  in  a  fatherly 
266 


manner):    "this   Fresno   party   is  wise; 
five  hundred  of  this  coin  is  his." 

Helen  uttered  a  cry.  "Do  you  mean 
he  is  betting  against  Mr.  Speed?" 

"Nothin'  else." 

"Despicable!"  breathed  the  girl. 
"Wait  a  moment,  please!"  Helen  hur 
ried  back  to  Chapin,  while  Gallagher  mut 
tered  something  like  "I  ain't  takin'  no 
orphan's  money." 

"Jack!"  (the  girl  was  trembling  with 
excitement),  "you  told  me  on  the  way 
over  that  you  had  five  hundred  dollars 
with  you.  Let  me  have  it,  please.  I'll 
give  you  my  check  when  we  get  home." 

"My  dear  girl,  you  aren't  going  to — 
bet  it?" 

"Yes,  I  am." 

"Don't  do  that!" 

For  answer  she  snatched  the  pocket- 
book  from  his  hand. 

"Mr.  Gallagher!"  she  called. 

Skinner  watched  from  afar.      "Some 
class  to  that  gal!"  was  what  he  said, 
which  proved  that  he  was   a  person 
not  wholly  without  sentiment. 

18 


CHAPTER  XVII 

SPEED  leaped  down  from  the  buck- 
board  in  which  Carara  had  driven 
him   and   Glass  over  to  the  Centipede 
corral. 

"I  told  you  to  jump  out  when  we 
crossed  that  bridge,"  was  Larry's  re 
proach  to  him.  ''You  could  have 
broke  your  arm.  Now — it's  too  late." 

But  Speed  joined  his  friends  with  the 
most  cheerful  of  greetings. 

They  responded  nervously,  shocked  at 
his  flippant  assurance. 

"This,  Mr.  Speed,  is  the  scene  of  your 
defeat!"  Gallagher  made  the  intro 
duction. 

"And  this  is  Mr.  Skinner,  no  doubt?" 
Wally  shook  hands  with  the  Centipede 
runner,  who  stared  at  him,  refused  to 
recognize  his  knowing  wink,  and  turned 
away. 

268 


"You  think  pretty  well  of  yourself, 
don't  you?"  suggested  Gallagher  un 
pleasantly,  and  Speed  laughed.  There 
was  no  reason  why  he  should  not  laugh. 
Either  way  his  hour  had  come. 

"I  s'pose  that  satchel  is  full  of 
money?"  Gallagher  pointed  to  the  suit 
case. 

"On  the  contrary,  it  is  full  of  clothes. 
It  is  I  who  contain  the  money."  He 
thrust  a  cold  palm  into  his  pocket  as 
Covington  dragged  him  aside  to  advise 
him  not  to  be  an  utter  idiot,  to  throw 
his  money  away  if  he  must,  but  to 
throw  it  to  charity  or  to  his  friends. 

"Yes,"  Glass  seconded,  lugubriously, 
"and  hold  out  enough  to  buy  me  a 
Gates  Ajar  in  immortelles."  But  he 
said  also,  as  if  to  himself,  "He  may  be 
wrong  in  the  burr,  but  he's  a  game  little 
guy." 

As  the  Centipede  foreman  counted  the 
money,  Helen  came  forward,  announcing: 

"You'll  have  to  win  now,  won't  you, 
Mr.  Speed?  I've  wagered  five  hundred 
dollars  on  you.  I  bet  against  Mr. 
Fresno." 

269 


" Fresno!  So  he's  out  from  cover  at 
last,  eh?" 

"I  haven't  been  under  cover,"  spoke 
up  the  Calif ornian.  "I've  been  wise  all 
along." 

Chapin  wheeled.  "Does  it  seem  to 
you  quite  the  thing  to  bet  against  our 
man,  Fresno?"  he  inquired,  his  glance 
full  in  the  other's  eyes. 

"Why  not?  There's  no  sentiment  in 
financial  affairs." 

Speed  shrugged.  "Our  tenor  friend 
will  sing  his  way  back  to  California." 
He  turned  with  his  thanks  to  Helen. 

"The  talkin'  -machine!"  interrupted 
Still  Bill,  suddenly.  A  group  of  men  was 
approaching,  who  bore  the  phonogragh 
upon  a  dry-goods  box,  and  deposited  it 
in  state  beside  the  race-course.  "Say, 
Gabby,  s'pose  you  give  us  a  tune,  just 
to  show  she's  in  good  order." 

"Suspicious,  eh?" 

"You  bet!  There's  a  monologue  I'd 
admire  to  hear.  It's  called — " 

' '  We'll  have  The  Holy  City, ' '  said  Willie, 
positively.  "It's  more  appropriate." 

So,  with  clumsy  fingers,  Gallagher 
270 


fitted  a  record,  then  wound  up  the 
machine  under  the  jealous  eyes  of  the 
Flying  Heart  cowboys. 

Drawn  by  the  sound,  Skinner,  wrap 
ped  to  the  chin  in  his  blanket,  idled 
toward  the  crowd,  affording  Glass  a  sight 
of  his  face  for  the  first  time.  The  latter 
started  as  if  stung,  and  crying  under  his 
breath,  "Salted  car -horse!"  drew  his 
employer  aside. 

4 'Say,"  he  said,  pointing  a  finger, 
"who's  that?" 

"Skinner,  the  man  I  run/' 

Glass  groaned.  "His  name  ain't  Skin 
ner;  that's  'Whiz'  Long.  Six  years  ago 
I  saw  him  win  the  Sheffield  Handicap 
from  scratch  in  nine- three."  Then,  as 
Speed  did  not  seem  to  be  particularly  im 
pressed,  "Don't  you  understand,  Wally? 
He's  a  pro;  this  is  his  game!" 

To  which  the  younger  man  replied, 
serenely  and  happily,  "It's  fixed." 

"What's  fixed?" 

' ' The  race.    It's  all  arranged — framed. ' ' 

' '  Who  framed  it  ?     How  ?     When  ?" 

1 '  Sh-h !  I  did.  Yesterday ;  by  stealth  ; 
I  fixed  it." 

271 


"You  win  from  'Whiz'  Long,  and  you 
can't  run  under  fifteen?" 

Wally  nodded.  "I  told  him  that— 
it's  all  right." 

4 'You  told  him?"  Glass  staggered. 
"It's  all  right?  Say!  Don't  you  know 
he's  the  fastest,  crookedest,  cheatingest, 
double-crossingest — why,  he  just  came 
to  feel  you  out!" 

And  Speed  turned  dizzy. 

"And  you  fell  for  that  old  stuff!" 
Larry's  voice  was  trembling  with  anger 
and  disgust.  "Why,  that's  part  of  his 
'work.'  He's  double-crossed  every  run- 
nin'  mate  he  ever  had.  He'd  cheat  his 
mother.  Wait!" 

Skinner  had  left  the  crowd,  and  was 
seated  now  in  the  shade  of  the  corral 
fence.  He  glanced  upward  from  be 
neath  his  black  brows  as  Larry  reached 
and  greeted  him.  "Hello,  Whiz!  I  just 
'made '  you — "  Then  he  shook  his  head. 

"I  haven't  got  you.  My  name  is 
Skinner." 

"Nix  on  that  monaker,"  Glass  smiled, 
indulgently.     "I    had    a    man    in    that 
Sheffield  Handicap  six  years  ago." 
272 


"You're  in  bad,"  asserted  the  cook 
steadily,  "but  assuming  that  my  name 
is  Long — " 

"I  didn't  say  your  name  was  'Long.' 
I  called  you  '  Whiz. ' '  Glass  chuckled 
at  the  point  as  he  scored  it.  ' '  Now  come 
in;  be  good." 

Skinner  darted  a  look  toward  Gal 
lagher  and  the  Centipede  men  gathered 
about  the  shrilling  phonograph,  stoop 
ed  and  tied  his  shoes,  and  breathed 
softly: 

"Spiel!" 

"This  little  feller  I'm  trainin'— does 
he  win?" 

Without  an  upward  glance,  Skinner 
inquired : 

"Did  the  man  you  trained  for  the 
Sheffield  Handicap  win?" 

"Never  mind  that.  Does  this  frame- 
up  go  through?"  It  happened  that 
Speed,  drawn  irresistibly,  had  come 
forward  to  hang  upon  every  word,  and 
now  chose  this  moment  to  interrupt. 

"It's  all  right,  Mr.  Skinner—"  But 
Skinner  leaped  to  his  feet. 

"Don't  try  anything  like  that!"  he 
273 


cried,  in  a  terrible  voice  that  brought 
Gabby  Gallagher  striding  toward  them. 

"What's  goin'  on  here?  Are  they 
tryin'  to  fix  you,  Skinner?" 

"Not  a  bit  like  it,"  Glass  protested 
stoutly.  "I  only  asked  him  which  side 
he'd  rather  run  on,  and  now  he  calls  for 
police  protection." 

"Don't  try  it  again,  that's  all!"  the 
cook  warned,  sullenly. 

"I  reckon  I'll  take  a  hand  in  this!" 
Gallagher  was  in  a  fine  rage,  and  would 
have  fallen  upon  the  offender  had  not 
Stover  stepped  in  his  path. 

"I  reckon  you  won't!"  he  said  easily. 

The  two  glared  at  each  other,  and  were 
standing  thus  when  Speed  and  his 
trainer  moved  gently  off.  They  made 
their  way  to  the  house  in  comparative 
silence.  "I — I  made  a  mistake,"  said 
Wally. 

"You've  been  jobbed  like  you  was  a 
baby,"  said  Glass.  "There  ain't  but  one 
thing  to  do  now.  Go  into  the  house  and 
change  your  clothes,  and  when  you  get 
ready  to  run,  get  ready  to  run  for  your 
life — and  mine." 

274 


Over  on  the  race-course  Gallagher  was 
inquiring : 

"Who's  goin'  to  send  these  y'ere 
athaletes  away?" 

"I  am!"  announced  Willie  without 
hesitation  ' '  Bern'  perhaps  the  handiest 
man  present  with  a  weepon,  I'm  goin'  to 
start  this  journey."  He  looked  his  foes 
squarely  in  the  eyes.  ' '  Has  anybody  got 
objections  to  me  ?"  The  silence  was  flat 
tering,  and  more  loudly  now,  so  that 
Skinner  might  hear,  he  added:  "If  your 
man  tries  to  beat  the  gun,  I'll  have  him 
wingin'  his  way  to  lands  celestial  before 
he  makes  his  second  jump." 

Gallagher  acknowledged  the  fairness 
of  this  proposition.  "This  race  is  goin' 
to  be  squar',"  said  he.  "We're  ready 
when  y'all  are." 

J.  Wallingford  Speed  stepped  out  of 
his  clothes  and  into  his  silken  running- 
suit.  He  was  numb  and  cold.  His  hands 
performed  their  duties  to  be  sure,  but 
his  brain  was  idle.  All  he  knew  was 
that  he  had  been  betrayed  and  all  was 
lost.  He  heard  Glass  panting  instruc 
tions  into  his  ear,  but  they  made  no  im- 
275 


pression  upon  him.  In  a  dull  trance  he 
followed  his  trainer  back  to  the  track, 
his  eyes  staring,  his  bones  like  water. 
Not  until  he  heard  the  welcoming  shout 
of  the  Flying  Heart  henchmen  did  he 
realize  that  the  worst  was  yet  to  come. 
He  heard  Larry  still  coaching  earnestly: 
"If  you  can't  bite  him,  trip  him  up," 
and  some  one  said: 

"Are  we  ready?" 

Glass  held  out  his  hand.  "Good-bye, 
Mr.  Speed." 

Chapin  came  forward  and  spoke  with 
artificial  heartiness,  "Good-luck,  Wally; 
beat  him  at  the  start,"  and  Covington 
followed. 

"Remember,"  he  cautioned,  sadly, 
"what  I  told  you  about  the  start — it's 
your  only  chance." 

'  *  Why  don't  you  fellows  think  about  the 
finish  of  this  race?"  faltered  the  runner. 

Then,  in  a  voice  broken  with  excite 
ment,  Helen  Blake  spoke,  holding  out  her 
hand  for  a  good-bye  clasp.  "Dear  Mr. 
Speed,"  she  said,  "will  you  try 
to  remember  this  ? — remember 
to  run  before  he  does,  and 
276 


don't  let  him  catch  up  to  you.  If  you 
do  that,  I  just  know  you'll  win." 

This  magnificent  display  of  confidence 
nerved  the  athlete,  and  he  smiled  at 
her.  He  wished  to  speak,  but  dared 
not  trust  himself. 

Gallagher  was  calling;  so  he  went  to 
the  starting-point,  whence  he  surveyed 
the  course.  There  it  lay,  no  more  than 
a  lane  leading  down  between  ranks  of 
brown- faced  men  whose  eyes  were  turned 
upon  him.  On  the  top  rail  of  the  corral 
perched  Willie,  revolver  in  hand.  The 
babble  of  voices  ceased,  the  strident 
laughter  stilled,  Speed  heard  the  nerv 
ous  rustle  of  feminine  skirts.  Skinner 
was  standing  like  a  statue,  his  toe  to  the 
mark,  his  eyes  averted. 

"You'll  start  here  and  run  a  hundred 
yards  out  yonder  to  the  tape,"  Gal 
lagher  announced. 

"I  refuse!"  said  Speed  firmly. 

For  one  breathless  instant  there  was  a 
hush  of  amazement,  then  a  cry  of  rage. 
Still  Bill  Stover  hurled  the  nearest  man 
out  of  his  path,  and  stode  forward,  his 
lean  face  ablaze.  He  wheeled  and  flung 
277 


up  his  hand  as  if  to  check  some  hidden 
movement  of  Willie's. 

"No  voylence  yet,  Will!  What  d'you 
mean,  Mr.  Speed?" 

Speed  uttered  what  he  knew  was  his 
final  joke  on  earth.  "I  mean  that  I  re 
fuse  to  run  straightaway.  I'm  an  all- 
around  athlete,  and  I  must  run  all  around 
something." 

Amid  shouts  of  confusion,  those  who 
had  taken  positions  along  the  course 
came  crowding  back  to  the  starting-point, 
Willie  wrapped  his  legs  about  the  top 
rail  of  the  fence  and  drew  a  second 
revolver,  while  the  two  foremen  bellowed 
indistinguishable  threats  at  each  other. 
Chapin  lost  no  time  in  withdrawing  his 
guests  out  of  the  turmoil,  but  Helen  kept 
her  place,  her  face  chalky  but  her  eyes 
very  bright. 

"What  are  you  tryin'  to  hand  us?" 
roared  Gallagher. 

Still   Bill  was  quick  to  take  a  cue. 

"Don't  get  hectic!"  said  he.     "There's 

nothin'    in    the    articles    about    runnin' 

straight .    Let  'em  run  around  the  corral. ' ' 

278 


But  at  this  suggestion  every  voice 
seemed  to  break  out  simultaneously. 

"Humpy  Joe  ran  straightaway,"  de 
clared  Gallagher. 

"Yes,  an'  he  kept  at  it,"  piped  Willie. 
"I  favor  the  idea  of  them  runners 
comin'  back  where  they  start  from." 

"Listen,  all  of  you,"  Speed  announced. 
"I  am  going  to  run  around  and  around 
and  around  this  corral.  If  Mr.  Skinner 
chooses  to  accompany  me,  he  may  trail 
along;  otherwise  I  shall  run  alone." 

"Never  heerd  of  such  a  thing!"  Gal 
lagher  was  dancing  in  his  excitement, 
but  Skinner  calmed  him  by  announcing, 
curtly: 

"I'll  beat  him  any  way  he  wants  to 


run." 


"You  couldn't  beat  a  rug,"  retorted 
Wally,  and  Glass  suddenly  smote  his 
palms  together,  crying,  blankly: 

"I  forgot  the  rug!" 

"We  don't  want  no  arg'ment  after 
wards.  Does  the  Centipede  accept  its 
fate  ?"  Still  Bill  glared  at  the  faces  ring 
ed  about  him. 

"We  do  if  Skinner  says  so." 
279 


"Twice  around  the  corral,"  agreed 
Skinner.  "But  no  accidents,  under 
stand?  If  he  falls,  I  keep  going." 

Instantly  there  ensued  a  scramble  for 
grand-stand  seats ;  the  cowboys  swarmed 
like  insects  upon  the  stout  fence  of  the 
c"orral. 

"Then  you'll  start  and  finish  here. 
Once  y'all  pass  well  stretch  a  string  to 
yonder  post,  and  the  first  man  to  bust  it 
wins.  Who's  got  a  string?" 

"Mr.  Gallagher,  won't  you  use  my 
sash?"  Helen  quickly  unfastened  the 
long  blue  bow  of  ribbon  from  her  cotton 
gown,  and  Gallagher  thanked  her,  adding: 

"Moreover,  the  winner  gets  it!" 

For  the  first  time,  then,  Skinner  ad 
dressed  Miss  Blake. 

"Hadn't  you  better  make  that  the 
loser,  miss?  The  winner  gets  the  coin," 
and  the  assent  came  in  a  flashing  smile 
from  sky-blue  eyes. 

"Then  the  loser  gets  the  ribbon!" 
Gallagher  announced  loudly,  and  made 
one  end  fast  to  the  corral.  "Which  I 
call  han'some  treatment  for  Mr.  Speed, 
an'  only  wish  we  might  retain  it  at  the 
280 


Centipede  as  a  remembrance.  Are  the 
runners  ready?" 

Those  near  the  starting-line  gave  room. 
Skinner  stepped  quickly  out  from  his 
blanket,  and  stamped  his  spikes  into  the 
soil ;  he  raised  and  lowered  himself  on  his 
toes  to  try  his  muscles.  Speed  drew  his 
bath-robe  from  his  shoulders  and  thrust 
it  toward  his  trainer,  who  shook  his 
head. 

"Give  it  to  Covington,  Bo;  I  won't  be 
here  when  you  come  back." 

"Get  on  your  marks!"  The  starter 
gave  his  order. 

Speed  set  his  spikes  into  the  dirt, 
brought  his  weight  forward  upon  his 
hands.  He  whispered  something  to  Skin 
ner.  That  gentleman  straightened  up, 
whereupon  Willie  cried  for  a  second  time : 

"On  your  marks!"  and  again  Skinner 
crouched. 

"Get  set!" 

The  crowd  filled  its  lungs  and  waited. 
Helen  Blake  buried  her  nails  in  her  rosy 
cold  palms.  Chapin  and  his  friends  were 
swayed  by  their  heart-heats,  while  even 
Fresno  was  balanced  upon  his  toes,  his 
281 


plump  face  eager.  The  click  of  Willie's 
gun  sounded  sharp  as  he  cocked  it. 

Into  the  ear  close  by  his  cheek  Speed 
again  whispered  an  agonized — 

" Don't  forget  to  fall  down!" 

This  time  the  cook  of  the  Centipede 
leaped  backward  with  an  angry  snarl, 
while  the  crowd  took  breath. 

"Make  him  quit  talking  to  me!"  cried 
Skinner. 

Gallagher  uttered  an  imprecation  and 
strode  forward,  only  to  have  his  way 
once  more  barred  by  Still  Bill  Stover. 
"He  can  talk  if  he  wants  to." 

"There  is  nothing,"  Speed  pointed  out 
with  dignity,  "in  the  articles  to  forbid 
talking.  If  I  wished  to,  I  could  sing. 
Yes,  or  whistle,  if  I  felt  like  it." 

"On  your  marks!"  came  the  rasping 
voice  of  Willie  as  Wally  murmured  to 
Skinner : 

' '  Remember,  I  trust  you . ' ' 

Skinner  ground  his  teeth;  the  tendons 
in  his  calves  stood  out  rigidly. 

"Get  set!" 

Once  more  the  silence  of  death  wrapped 
the  beholders,  and  Willie  raised  his  arm. 
282 


Speed  cast  one  lingering  farewell  glance 
to  the  skies,  and  said,  devoutly:  "What  a 
beautiful,  beautiful  day!" 

Now  the  starter  was  shaking  in  an 
ague  of  fury. 

"Listen,  you!"  he  chattered,  shrilly. 
"I'm  goin'  to  shoot  twice  this  time — once 
in  the  air,  and  the  next  time  at  the 
nearest  foot-runner.  Now,  get  set!"  and 
the  speaker  pulled  trigger,  whereupon 
Speed  leaped  as  if  the  bullet  had  been 
aimed  at  him. 

Instantly  a  full-lunged  roar  went  up 
that  rolled  away  to  the  foot-hills,  and 
the  runners  sped  out  of  the  pandemonium, 
their  legs  twinkling  against  the  dust- 
colored  prairie.  Down  to  the  turn  they 
raced.  Speed  was  leading.  Fright  had 
acted  upon  him  as  an  electric  charge ;  his 
terror  lent  him  wings;  he  was  obsessed 
by  a  propelling  force  outside  of  himself. 
Naturally  strong,  lithe,  and  active,  he 
likewise  possessed  within  him  the  white- 
hot  flame  of  youth,  and  now,  with  a  name 
less  fear  to  spurn  him  on,  he  ran  as  any 
healthy,  frightened  young  animal  would 
run.  At  the  second  turn  Skinner  had 

19  283 


not  passed  him,  but  the  thud  of  his  feet 
was  close  behind. 

This  unparalleled  phenomenon  sur 
prised  Lawrence  Glass  perhaps  most  of 
all.  He  had  laid  his  plans  to  slip  quietly 
out  of  the  crowd  under  cover  of  the  first 
confusion  and  lay  his  own  course  east 
ward;  but  when  he  beheld  his  protege 
actually  in  the  lead,  he  remained  rooted 
to  his  tracks.  Was  this  a  miracle  ?  He 
turned  to  Covington,  to  find  him  dancing 
madly,  his  crutches  waving  over  his 
head,  in  his  eyes  the  stare  of  a  maniac. 
His  mouth  was  distended,  and  Glass  rea 
soned  that  he  must  be  shouting  violently, 
but  could  not  be  sure.  Suddenly  Cov 
ington  dashed  to  the  turn  whence  the 
runners  would  be  revealed  as  they 
covered  the  last  half  lap,  for  nothing  was 
distinguishable  through  the  fence,  bur 
dened  by  human  forms,  and  Larry 
lumbered  after  him,  ploughing  his  way 
through  the  crowd  and  colliding  with  the 
box  upon  which  stood  the  Echo  Phono 
graph,  of  New  York  and  Paris.  He 
hurled  Mariedetta  out  of  his  path  with 
brutal  disregard,  but  even  before  he 
284 


could  reach  his  point  of  vantage  the 
sprinters  burst  into  the  homestretch. 
Larry  Glass  saw  it  all  at  a  glance — 
Speed  was  weakening,  while  Skinner  was 
running  easily.  Nature  had  done  her 
utmost;  she  could  not  work  the  im 
possible.  As  they  tore  past,  Skinner 
was  ahead. 

The  air  above  the  corral  became  black 
ened  with  hats  as  if  a  flock  of  vultures  had 
wheeled  suddenly;  the  shriek  of  triumph 
that  rose  from  the  Centipede  ranks 
warned  the  trainer  that  he  had  tarried 
too  long.  Heavily  he  set  off  across  the 
prairie  for  New  York. 

The  memory  of  that  race  awakened 
Speed  from  his  slumbers  many  times  in 
later  years.  When  he  found  the  brown 
shoulder  of  his  rival  drawing  past  he 
realized  that  for  him  the  end  of  all 
things  was  at  hand.  And  yet,  be  it  said 
to  his  credit,  he  held  doggedly  to  his 
task,  and  began  to  fight  his  waning 
strength  with  renewed  determination. 
Down  through  the  noisy  crowd  he 
pounded  at  the  heels  of  his  antagonist, 
then  out  upon  the  second  lap.  But  now 
285 


his  fatigue  increased  rapidly,  and  as  it 
increased,  so  did  Skinner's  lead.  At 
the  second  turn  Wally  was  hopelessly 
outdistanced,  and  began  to  sob  with 
fury,  in  anticipation  of  the  last,  long, 
terrible  stretch.  Back  toward  the  final 
turn  they  came,  the  college  man  des 
perately  laboring,  the  cook  striding  on 
like  a  machine.  Wally  saw  the  rows  of 
forms  standing  upon  the  fence,  but  of  the 
shouting  he  heard  nothing.  Skinner  was 
twenty  yards  ahead  now,  and  flung  a 
look  back  over  his  shoulder.  As  he 
turned  into  the  last  straightaway  he 
looked  back  again  and  grinned  trium 
phantly. 

Then — J.  Wallingford  Speed  gasped, 
and  calling  upon  his  uttermost  atom  of 
strength,  quickened  the  strides  of  his 
leaden  legs.  Skinner  had  fallen! 

A  shriek  of  exultation  came  from  the 
Flying  Heart  followers ;  it  died  as  the  un 
fortunate  man  struggled  to  his  feet,  and 
was  off  again  before  his  opponent  had  over 
taken  him.  Down  the  alley  of  human 
forms  the  two  came;  then  as  their  man 
drew  ahead  for  an  instant  or  two,  such 
286 


a  bedlam  broke  forth  from  Gallagher's 
crew  that  Lawrence  Glass,  well  started 
on  his  overland  trip,  judged  that  the 
end  had  come. 

But  Skinner  wavered.  His  ankle 
turned  for  a  second  time;  he  seemed 
about  to  fall  once  more.  Then  he 
righted  himself,  but  he  came  on  hobbling. 

The  last  thirty  yards  contained  the 
tortures  of  a  lifetime  to  Wally  Speed. 
His  lungs  were  bursting,  his  head  was 
rolling,  every  step  required  a  separate 
and  concentrated  effort  of  will.  He 
knew  he  was  wobbling,  and  felt  his  knees 
ready  to  buckle  beneath  him,  but  he  saw 
the  blue,  tight-stretched  ribbon  just 
ahead,  and  continued  to  lessen  the  gap 
between  himself  and  Skinner  until  he 
felt  he  must  reach  out  wildly  and  grasp 
at  the  other  man's  clothing.  Helen's 
face  stood  out  from  the  blur,  and  her 
lips  cried  to  him.  He  plunged  forward, 
his  outflung  arm  tore  the  ribbon  from 
its  fastening,  and  he  fell.  But  Skinner 
was  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

HT  HE  only  thing  in  the  world  that  the 
*•  victorious  Speed  wanted  was  to 
lie  down  and  stretch  out  and  allow  those 
glowing  coals  in  his  chest  to  cool  off. 
But  rough  hands  seized  him,  and  he 
found  himself  astride  of  Stover's  shoul 
ders  and  gyrating  about  the  Echo  Phono 
graph  in  the  midst  of  a  war-dance.  He 
kicked  violently  with  his  spiked  shoes, 
whereat  the  foreman  bucked  like  a  wild 
horse  under  the  spur  and  dropped  him, 
and  he  staggered  out  of  the  crowd, 
where  a  girl  flew  to  him. 

"Oh,  Wally,"  she  cried,  "I  knew  you 
could!''  He  sank  to  the  ground,  and  she 
knelt  beside  him. 

Skinner  was  propped  against  the  corral 
fence  opposite,  his  face  distorted  with 
suffering,  and  Gallagher  was  rubbing  his 
ankle. 

288 


* '  'Taint  broke,  I  reckon, ' '  said  Gallagher, 
rising.  "I  wish  to  hell  it  was!"  He 
stared  disgustedly  at  his  fallen  champion, 
and  added :  ' '  We  don't  want  y 'all  for  a 
cook  no  more,  Skinner.  You  never  was 
no  good  nohow."  He  turned  to  Helen 
and  handed  her  a  double  handful  of 
bank-notes,  as  Berkeley  Fresno  buried 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  walked 
away.  "Here's  your  coin,  miss.  If  ever 
you  get  another  hunch,  let  me  know. 
An'  here's  yours,  Mr.  Speed;  it's  a 
weddin' -  present  from  the  Centipede." 
He  fetched  a  deep  sigh.  " Thank  the 
Lord  we'll  git  somethin'  fit  to  eat  from 
now  on!" 

Speed  staggered  to  Skinner,  who  was 
still  nursing  his  injury,  and  held  out  his 
hand,  whereat  the  cook  winked  his  left 
eye  gravely. 

"The  best  man  won,"  said  Skinner, 
"and  say — there's  a  parson  at  Albu 
querque."  Then  he  groaned  loudly,  and 
fell  to  massaging  his  foot. 

There  came  a  fluttering  by  his  side, 
and  Miss  Blake's  voice  said  to  him,  with 
sweetness  and  with  pity : 
289 


"I'm  so  sorry  you  lost  your  position, 
Mr.  Skinner.  You're  a  splendid  runner!" 

"Never  mind  the  job,  miss,  I've  got 
something  to  remember  it  by."  He 
pointed  to  a  sash  which  lay  beside  him. 
"The  loser  gets  the  ribbon,  miss,"  he 
explained  gallantly. 

Off  to  the  right  there  came  a  new 
outcry,  and  far  across  the  level  prairie  a 
strange  sight  was  revealed  to  the  be 
holders.  A  fat  man  in  w^hite  flannels 
was  doubling  and  dodging  ahead  of  two 
horsemen,  and  even  from  a  considerable 
distance  it  could  plainly  be  seen  that  he 
was  behaving  with  remarkable  agility  for 
one  so  heavy.  Repeatedly  his  pursuers 
headed  him  off,  but  he  rushed  past  them, 
seemingly  possessed  by  the  blind  sense  of 
direction  that  guides  the  homing  pigeon 
or  the  salmon  in  its  springtime  run. 
He  was  headed  toward  the  east. 

"Why,  it's  Larry!"  ejaculated  Speed. 
"And  Cloudy  and  Carara." 

"  Wally,  your  man  has  lost  his  reason!" 
Chapin  called. 

At  that  instant  the  watchers  saw  the 
Mexican  thunder  down  upon  Glass,  his 
290 


lariat  swinging  about  his  head.  Lazily 
the  rope  uncoiled  and  settled  over  the 
fleeing  figure,  then,  amid  a  cloud  of  dust, 
Carara's  horse  set  itself  upon  its  haunches 
and  the  white-clad  figure  came  to  the  end 
of  its  flight.  There  was  a  violent  struggle, 
as  if  the  cowboy  had  hooked  a  leaping 
tuna,  cactus  plants  and  sage-brush  were 
uprooted,  then  the  pony  began  to  back 
away,  always  keeping  the  lariat  taut. 
But  Glass  was  no  easy  captive,  as  his 
threshing  arms  and  legs  betrayed,  and 
even  when  he  was  dragged  back  to  the 
scene  of  the  race,  panting,  grimy,  dis 
hevelled,  the  rope  still  about  his  waist, 
he  seemed  obsessed  by  that  wild  in 
sanity  for  flight.  He  was  drenched 
with  perspiration,  his  collar  was  dang 
ling,  one  end  of  a  suspender  trailed  be 
hind  him. 

At  sight  of  Speed  he  uttered  a  cry, 
then  plunged  through  the  crowd  like  a 
bull,  but  the  lariat  loop  slipped  to  his 
neck  and  tightened  like  a  hangman's 
noose. 

"Larrv."  cried  his  employer,  sharply, 
"have  you  lost  your  head?" 
291 


" Ain't  they  g-g-got  you  yet?"  queried 
the  trainer  in  a  strangling  voice. 

"You  idiot,  I  won!" 

"What!" 

"I  won — easy." 

"You  won!"  Larry's  eyes  were  start 
ing  from  his  head. 

"He  sure  did,"  said  Stover.  "Didn't 
you  think  he  could?" 

Glass  apprehended  that  look  of  sus 
picion.  "Certainly!"  said  he.  "Didn't  I 
say  so,  all  along  ?  Now  take  that  clothes 
line  off  of  me;  I've  got  to  run  some 
more." 

That  evening  J.  Wallingford  Speed  and 
Helen  Blake  sat  together  in  the  ham 
mock,  and  much  of  the  time  her  hand  was 
in  his.  The  breath  of  the  hills  wandered 
to  them  idly,  fragrant  with  the  odors  of 
the  open  fields,  the  heavens  were  bright 
with  dancing  stars,  the  night  itself  was 
made  for  romance.  From  the  bunk- 
house  across  the  court-yard  floated  the 
voice  of  the  beloved  Echo  Phonograph, 
now  sad,  now  gay ;  now  shrilling  the  peace 
ful  air  with  Mme.  Melba's  Holy  City,  now 
292 


waking  the  echoes  with  the  rasping  re 
flections  of  Silas  on  Fifth  Avenue.  To 
the  spellbound  audience  gathered  close 
beside  it,  it  was  divine;  but  deep  as  was 
their  satisfaction,  it  could  not  compare 
with  that  of  the  tired  young  son  of  E1j. 
Ineffable  peace  and  contentment  were 
his;  the  whole  wide  world  was  full  of 
melody. 

"And  now  that  I've  told  you  what 
a  miserable  fraud  I  am,  you  won't  stop 
loving  me?"  he  questioned. 

Helen  nestled  closer  and  shook  her 
head.  There  was  no  need  for  words. 

Jack  Chapin  came  out  upon  the  porch 
with  the  chaperon.  "Well,  Fresno  caught 
his  train,"  he  told  them. 

"And  we  had  such  a  glorious  drive 
coming  back!  The  night  is  splendid!" 

"Yes,  so  nice  and  moonlight!"  Wally 
agreed  pleasantly,  whereat  Jack  Chapin 
laughed. 

"It's  as  black  as  pitch." 

"Why,  so  it  is!"   Then  as  a  fresh  song 

burst  forth  from  the  very  heart  of  the 

machine,    he    murmured   affectionately: 

"By  Jove!  there  goes  The  Baggage  Coach 

293 


Ahead  once  more!  That  makes  ten 
times." 

"It's  a  beautiful  thing,  isn't  it  ?"  Miss 
Blake  sighed  dreamily. 

"I — I  believe  I'm  learning  to  like  it 
myself, ' '  her  lover  agreed.  * '  Poor  Frez !" 

The  bridesmaids  wore  white  organdie 
and  carried  violets. 


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MlJfci     If     J9; 

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NOV191984 

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RECtlVED  BY 

NOV  1  8  1984 

5M-p    1Q  1941 

CIRCULATION   DFPT 

Otr   -»-v 

vnvwcrrfnor^i    L/cn« 

bi/.i'tli  ON  Itt 

DEC  0  5  2002 

SEP  iy  1941 

1 

Ur*   &EDJCE]  -V 

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